Humming Bird
by Pike2
Summary: After the events of 'Road Trip' Jonas returns to Kelowna but political unrest puts his life in danger. Meanwhile a routine excavation offworld leads SG1 back to Egypt’s past and danger for one team member.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer - Nope do not own only the following story, plucked from the atmosphere of my mind.  
  
This is just a little taste, main course to follow.  
  
Rest of the team will tag along later.  
  
I just wanted to spend some time off world in Kelowna  
  
============  
  
Jonas shut the door to his quarters holding tight to the handle for a moment wishing for a lock to shut out the world, his world.  
  
He watched the looming shadow of the City Guard, who was assigned to 'protect' him, creep under the doorframe as this dark figure settled into his nightly place of observation.  
  
He swallowed tasting the curdled aftertaste of death that clung to his skin and clothing like stiff fingers of remembrance. Vacant, upturned, faces haunted his mind, silent in their last breath, frozen against the mud and hoar of the insubstantial refugee camp, which was one of many, hastily erected to take care of the influx of both Tiranians and Andari fleeing the lethal Naquadria that had blighted their homes.  
  
Snow had began to danced to the tune of the biting wind, covering the tableau in a sheen of icy tears wept for the murder of innocents and there, in the heart of the carnage, brazen in its appeal to the leaden sky, an early poppy raised its red head, stealing the colour from the monotone landscape.  
  
He buried his head in his hands, finding he was shaking uncontrollably. He'd seen the viciousness of death before when the Lycaons had attacked the Nox but this was different. This callous savagery wasn't the act of creatures bred for the hunt, for the kill, these people were slain by the hands of ordinary Kelownans enraged by rumour and fabrication.  
  
The whispered lies had no doubt started as propaganda by those who believed in 'Kelowna for the Kelownans' and did not wish to share power with the defeated, inferior, races of the Tiranians and Abdari. This rumour spread on the lips of housewives, through the innocence of children to the ears of city workers, embellishing with each new narrative until its shadow had engulf many men's hearts to act as a merciless mob.  
  
It was only a small camp, housing about one hundred workers from the once lush rural belt of the 'Andari Garden.' These weary families had travelled mainly on foot, carrying all that they owned, dressed in the rustic, quilted manner of the Andari people that's seen them through the harsh winters of their southern land. They were use to conflict, they had grown up, like all on this planet, battling for their right to live in peace, fighting for their small piece of fertile land, trying to own a future.  
  
The First Minister had promised them hope, with open arms, a chance at a joint future, for Kelowna needed able hands, to rebuild its cities, to rebuild its population that was severely diminish when Anubis sent his first wave to test the planet's defences. This was to have been a joint effort, a coming together of nations, each constructing a future, working side-by-side until the three states became one and Langaria was born from the ashes.  
  
It was a dream, Jonas knew it, they all did but some dreams are worth struggling for, even if they seem out of reach, even if they now lie abandoned amongst the broken corpses of nameless families who hoped and lost.  
  
In reality, The Joint Ruling Council could sit around the table pretending they had a common enemy, in the Goa'uld, but the truth was that enemy was their past and the inbred hate that would not die.  
  
===========  
  
See ya  
  
:o) 


	2. Where Is The Love?

Disclaimer - Don't own anyfink, please don't sue - only this story belongs to me.  
  
But if you only have love for your own race  
  
Then you only leave space to discriminate  
  
And to discriminate only generates hate  
  
And when you hate then you're bound to get irate  
  
Where is the love - Black Eyed Peas  
  
================  
  
The guard opened the door, without knocking and looked at Jonas, "just checking everything's alright ambassador," the words stuck to the roof of his mouth, echoing off the dry plaster walls as he spat them out.  
  
Jonas's smiled through his anguish, not letting his mask slip and nodded knowing the guard would continue this check, throughout the night, without any warning.  
  
The Sergeant hovered in the doorway, the dim light of the corridor making him more shadow than man, crossing his arms in disrespect, trying to dominate the gap. His fierce eyes darted around the chaotic, undersized, room, giving Jonas a look of contempt before nodding. He dug out a crushed packet of cigarettes, from his breast pocket, taking one directly from the pack with his mouth. He lit it with a snap of a match, the flame revealing the harsh cut of his face and filled his addicted lungs as if it were his last breath; he exhaled through his teeth, propelling a dense residue towards Jonas before exiting the room and slamming the door.  
  
Jonas heard the familiar crackle of a radio as the guard reported back to his command, selecting a few choice words, such as 'traitor' and 'close surveillance', to say loud enough to be heard.  
  
He had been shadowed like this since his return, his every movement closely watched and chronicled by a rota of nameless, uniformed, faces, all trying to wear him down, to goad him into some action, some misplaced word, that would cost him his 'liberty'.  
  
He was tired, his nights were constantly interrupted and his days spent fighting historical hostility to try and bring opposing standpoints to some kind of commonality. It was a demanding vocation as each Council member was torn by the past and afraid to disclose any information that might help build a Central Government.  
  
They were blinkered by petty disputes, unable to see the bigger picture; unable to understand the threat they now faced from the Goa'uld. The Kelownans believed their technology and Naquadria gave them the upper hand while the Tiranians and Andari reasoned that their alliance gave them a stronger say in government, even if they still squabbled as to what day of the week it was (the Andari having five days to a week, the Tiranians eight).  
  
He had argued, in private with Dreylock, to let him prove to the Council that the System Lord who had once ruled this planet had taken its inhabitants from earth, thousands of years ago and that they all shared the same genealogy. With Doctor Jackson's help they could authenticate the ancient texts that proved this and that they had, once, all worked together to defeat the Goa'uld, freeing the planet from its tyranny.  
  
The First Minister had thought long and hard on Jonas's plea but these were fragile times and this was very dangerous ground. Dreylock could ill afford to be controversial, she was not yet secure in her Ministerial position and there was a growing rumour, taking root amongst the people, that the Kelownans had been given the Stargate because of their superiority over all other races.  
  
In these dark times, the nation wanted to believe in their own supremacy and even though Dreylock had the support of the council members, it was the support of the people that she needed to go forward.  
  
Jonas had, had to acknowledge this, realising for the first time that there was also an inner power struggle unfolding in the Kelownan ranks, a struggle he had helped fuel by returning.  
  
The guard outside the door was a compromise reached between Dreylock and Commander Ravel, the ruthless head of Kelownan security, who had wanted to drag Jonas to the Palatine, the City Guard HQ, for questioning when he had first arrived home. This public show of support for a traitor, by the First Minister, and her refusal to listen to Ravel's advice had seriously undermined their tentative relationship and the rift between them had grown.  
  
The problem this caused for Dreylock was that the Commander held sway with the ordinary population and was turning them against the new administration. Ravel was a passionate and charismatic orator who secretly preached of government betrayal, on the broken streets of the city and advocated the supremacy philosophy, increasing his popularity and filling the people's hearts with prejudices and hatred.  
  
So there was a viper in the Ministerial nest and the esteem the Commander was held in, by the ordinary Kelownans, made an arrest difficult without solid proof of his plotting. Dreylock needed his strength, for the time being, but Jonas also knew that the planet's future would be lost if Ravel ever took control. His nihilistic values were built with the bricks of his own ambition and if he continued to build on these foundations the voice of the ordinary people would be lost in a bloody dictatorship.  
  
There was now a serious split in the Kelownan camp between the Supremacist and those in favour of unification and Jonas wondered if he was the only one who could see that each opposing side was pulling the planet apart faster than any Goa'uld attack.  
  
++++  
  
The lights flickered as the City's power was switched to key instillations. Jonas walked over to the bed and pulled the rough wool blanket from its frame to wrap around him; soon the heating for this area would be cut to save resources.  
  
He took the glove off, from his left hand and the imprinted eye flickered with light. He stretched his fingers and let his mind soar away from the sorrow and angst ingrained on his soul like sand. He felt the complexity of a million and one political arguments twisting through the building each fuelled by a determination. Jonas felt their colours and confusion float through his being like restless sprits impatient at their own mortality.  
  
He closed his eyes and sighed at the sheer volume of feeling that was striding the corridors to meet his focused mind. There was simply too much traffic for him to search for justice for the unclaimed bodies being hastily buried, in the frozen soil, in unmarked graves.  
  
He withdrew the light back to his palm and quickly put the glove back on, he could ill afford to get caught and charged under the four hundred year old Paranormal Act.  
  
Jonas smiled despondently and shook his head, for all of Kelowna's technological advancements they still had laws that took them back to the candle lit ages of their earliest parliament. Laws that made it illegal to practice soothsaying, witchcraft, fortune telling, astrology, séances, even magic tricks and illusions were prohibited and could be punishable by death. Kelowna was a suspicious land with a deep distrust in anything out of the ordinary or usual. He wondered if it stemmed from the Goa'uld occupation or if the laws were put in place to capture Andari or Tirania spies as both these countries had entrenched beliefs in the fortunes told by the stars.  
  
Jonas's memory stirred, retreating back to the grey flannel days of school. He heard the leaves drag along the broken concert of the playground as the wind chased them from the branches, piling them along the sides of the prefab, utility buildings. He sat against the thickness of a knotted tree trunk trying to unravel a question set earlier in the day while watching his breath cloud in the air. Other boys zoomed passed, arms stretched like aeroplanes as they fought their mock wars, a few stopped and asked him to join their side but he declined and they left it at that; they all knew he had just lost his sister.  
  
He was so absorbed in his calculation, trying to keep his mind busy and away from reflective thoughts, that he hadn't noticed the other boy lean against the tree, watching him. Jonas looked up for a moment and was meet by a pair of scrutinizing, sky, blue eyes, "you don't belong here, Jonas Quinn," came the unfeeling voice, "you're not one of us."  
  
Jonas stood in bewilderment only to be met by a small fist connecting with his nose, "you are the orchestrator of our doom, you will end the Kelownan dream."  
  
Jonas held his nose in disbelief, as blood seeped through his closed fingers. His blurry eyes looked into his attacker's cold, unfriendly, face, hidden in the fine hair and colouring of a cherub. A teacher came over, tweed like and spinsterish, and cut through the circle of small boys who had gathered in awe.  
  
She grabbed Jonas's assailant, stretching his worn sweater, and spun him to face her, "Morgan Arnold what's going on here?" She asked in a raised voice.  
  
Morgan just held her gaze and she saw something in those eyes that made her step back and lift a hand to the pearls around her throat. She began to shake as her reflection vanished into the boy's hypnotic orbs and was replaced with a vision of her own death. The wind dropped swathing the playground in silence, casting a spell on the energetic children who became effigies in the frost of the morning light.  
  
A Master strode across to the scene, breaking the enchantment with his movement and gathered the two boys by their collars, shaking them before marching them across the iced playground.  
  
Jonas was brought before a severe looking nurse whose face was pinched and hard, possessing no compassion in her shark like eyes. She threw a wad of cotton at him without examining the injury and made him scrub his hands, several times, in a large enamel sink filled with cold water and splashes of coloured paint. He was then left to his own devices in a disused study, which was being used as a storage space because of its disrepair and lack of heating.  
  
He sat, by himself, amongst the papers of long forgotten school children with nothing to record the passing minutes except the clink of an old pipe settling against the cold. Boredom caused him to pace the room, pulling his sleeves over his hands to stop the cold nibbling at his fingertips. He walked over to the set of oblong windows and peered out, on tiptoe, wondering if he'd been forgotten, wondering what he had done to be ostracised.  
  
From his vantage point he could see the long arms of the, industrious, metal cranes working the estuary, while around them a heavy flock of ever hungry gulls glinted like drawn swords against the drab sky as a new weather front moved in to wake up the morning.  
  
A black car drew into the playground, sleek and shining against the day and the rundown school. Jonas watched two official looking men get out and walk to the master's office. Soon another car pulled up and its two sinister occupants got out, leaning against the vehicle, smoking roll-ups as they waited direction.  
  
After what seemed like an eternity four figures advanced towards the second car from the study, the two men from the first car, the long limbed master and Morgan. The adults stood talking, for a while, their words smoking in the air but Morgan was taking no part in the discussion, he seemed oblivious to the banter, instead he looked across the yard seeing nothing else but Jonas's face through the mist of breath that was trapped on the glass.  
  
Jonas stepped back and swallowed, his skin crawling with fear. When he looked back out the second car was gone and so was Morgan.  
  
The door opened and the master entered flanked by the two men, "Quinn, these men are from the Government, they want to ask you a few questions."  
  
He nodded to the men and then exited the room, shutting the door behind him.  
  
Jonas watched him go and sat back down on the stool he had occupied earlier, the older of the two men did the same, pulling out a small seat and dusting it down before depositing his body weight on it; it creaked with the strain.  
  
The younger one took a seat in the corner giving Jonas a reassuring twitch of smile that Jonas couldn't help but return.  
  
The first guy delved into the leather case he'd been carrying and took out a tape recorder, pressing two of the buttons down to activate the machine's recording facility. He coughed, throatily and then looked at the small boy, "how well did you know Morgan Arnold?"  
  
'Did', Jonas was wary, he looked into the man's small eyes trying to gage what lay behind the jowly face. He shrugged mischievously causing the man's face to quiver as he rolled his eyes and pointed to the recording device with a silver pen.  
  
"Not well, sir," Jonas replied watching the reel of tape spin and hiss.  
  
"But you did know him?"  
  
"Yes, he was in the same class as me but we weren't friends or anything," Jonas shuffled on his stool and sat on his hands.  
  
"Were you enemies, then?"  
  
"No, sir, he was just a kid in my class," Jonas reiterated.  
  
"Then why did he hit you?"  
  
Jonas shrugged again.  
  
"The teacher, a Miss, Miss."  
  
"Helvellyn," replied the other man.  
  
"Yes, she said that Arnold spoke to you before the attack, what did he say?"  
  
Jonas looked towards the ceiling, he remembered every word Morgan had spat as their sentiment had burnt through him but he just chewed the inside of his cheek, as small boys do, when they don't know an answer. "I can't remember," he lied stealing a glance at the younger man to see if he'd noticed.  
  
The man sighed, "I want you to think again, to see if you can remember."  
  
Jonas did as instructed looking around the room in mock inspiration, then shook his head, "no, sorry, sir, is it important?"  
  
The man asking the questions looked across at his colleague who shook his head. He turned back to Jonas, "did you feel anything when the boy hit you?"  
  
Jonas's small forehead creased in puzzlement, "pain?" He answered back.  
  
The other man let out a snort as he tried to contain a laugh and spoke for the first time, "no, Jonas, he means did feel any odd sensation, did you see any pictures flash before your eyes, did you hear voices inside your head or experience anything weird or usual?"  
  
"Yes, thank you Doctor," the other man said annoyed, then turned back to Jonas, "well?"  
  
Jonas pretended to think long and hard on this last question. He remembered the look of portent in Morgan's eyes, the way it dragged at his soul, pulling at something inside of him. He looked at both men and shook his head.  
  
"Okay," the man said, turning off the recorder.  
  
"Is, is Morgan alright, sir?" Jonas asked, the question stopping both men.  
  
The first man narrowed his eyes at the boy, "I thought you said he wasn't a friend of yours?"  
  
"He's not, sir, I just wondered if he was ill or something."  
  
The man gave a dismissive grunt, "he was ailing from the day he was conceived, his father's Tiranian, see, mixed blood, makes the mind unstable, you bear that in mind boy," he said tapping his temple with his index finger.  
  
Jonas nodded obediently and then the man smiled at him for the first time, only it wasn't a smile of friendship, "you've just lost your sister," he stated massaging his abundant chin between his thumb and forefinger.  
  
Jonas looked down at the fluff bunnies that were nesting on the floor and said nothing.  
  
"Your parents," he continued, "they haven't been trying to contact her through illegal means?"  
  
"I, I don't understand, sir," he replied looking puzzled.  
  
The man read the boy's face and smiled again, "good, good, you keep it like that."  
  
He pushed his short fingers into the pocket of his jacket and after rummaging pulled out a cigarette. "You're not going to light that in here?" The other man asked.  
  
He looked around at the papers, the dust and Jonas, "s'pose not," he replied, "you coming Doctor?"  
  
"In a minute Dixon," he replied, "I'll meet you by the car."  
  
"Whatever, bring the tape recorder when you've finished up."  
  
The young man nodded and sat down in front of Jonas, while Dixon left the room, "why did you lie about not remembering what Morgan said to you?"  
  
Jonas looked up into the dark, brown, responsive eyes and thought about lying again; instead he looked at the tape.  
  
"It's okay I won't turn it on," the Doctor replied.  
  
"It didn't make sense." Jonas stated crossing his arms.  
  
"Why don't you tell me anyway?"  
  
Jonas chewed his lip, "he said that I didn't belong here, that, that I would end the Kelwonan dream."  
  
"Ah, then it's a good job you lied, Dixon would have wanted to investigate this further," the man said smiling, "so why are you telling me?"  
  
"Because you're not like him."  
  
"How so?"  
  
"His mind is closed, everything to him is black and white. You're, you're a scholar, your mind is open to a bigger picture."  
  
The young Doctor looked at Jonas and was enthralled by this bright child before him, "you're a very perceptive young man, Jonas Quinn and bright too, I've viewed your grades, before coming in here, but let me give you a word of warning, the government you are living under does not have an open mind. It is a distrustful administration, full of small-minded men, eager for power and they will be watching you, for a short time, because of this incident. Play your cards close to your chest, Jonas, sometimes it doesn't pay to be too bright."  
  
Jonas nodded and then asked, "what will happen to Morgan, sir?"  
  
The Doctor sighed and looked into the boy's eager face, knowing only the truth would do, "he will be taken into hospital, researched and have the frontal connections severed in his brain."  
  
Jonas looked dismayed, "but that's, that's," he searched for a word in his child's vocabulary, "unfair, he did nothing wrong."  
  
The man leaned across and took Jonas by the shoulder, "yes he did, he showed he was 'different'," he said sternly, "remember that."  
  
"Can't, can't you help him?" Jonas half pleaded.  
  
The man smiled sorrowfully and shook his head, "I'm only a junior scientist, Jonas, I have no authority, this isn't even my department, I'm just filling some guy's shoes who was shot by a sniper yesterday, my hands are tied. I know it's hard for you to understand, I know it's barbaric but things are changing," he put his hand under Jonas's chin and pulled his head up to meet him.  
  
"It's not right, though," Jonas replied in all innocence.  
  
The young man looked into the boy's forlorn eyes and removed the gold ring from his finger, "here take this and hold it for a while in the heat of your hand."  
  
Jonas did as he was told and squashed the onyx and gold band in his small fist, "now open your hand and take a look at the image on the front."  
  
Jonas unclenched the ball of his hand and watched the emblem change, from that of a compass to a tree, "wow."  
  
"That's the Coll, an ancient Kelownan symbol for the hazelnut tree, the tree of knowledge. It represents hidden wisdom, learning, truth and honesty. There are a few of us out there who believe in these values and believe we can change this administration for the better. We're not great statesmen or revolutionaries, we're academics who believe that slowly we can change this planet for the good of all those who live on it."  
  
He ruffled Jonas hair, "see, now we both know a secret about each other, so that means we are linked forever."  
  
"Friends?" Jonas asked, giving back the ring.  
  
"Yes, Jonas," the Doctor smiled and handed him a small card with his contact details on. "If you ever need me then call this number but remember not to say too much over the phone. Now go back to your lessons and remember what I told you."  
  
Jonas nodded and looked down at the card, "thank you, sir, I mean Doctor Kieran."  
  
====  
  
Until next time. 


	3. Fate And Fortune

As normal own nothing but this story.  
  
There was a problem downloading the last chapter, it didn't appear on the SG1 section, :o( strange????  
  
============  
  
Jonas awoke feeling uneasy and stiff. He massaged his shoulder and stretched the tendons in his injured leg, trying to get some feeling back. He sat up from the bed, running his fingers through his hair and touching the metal of the chain around his neck. He pulled it from under his tunic and held the ring that was threaded on the links, taking some comfort from its texture. He had not worn the band since he'd been back, since Sam had returned it, since he'd given it to Cassie.  
  
He got up and limped across to the sink, splashing the sleep from his face with cold water. He checked the time, it was still early, he'd been asleep for less than an hour.  
  
He looked down at the unwritten report on the desk and the black and white stills from the massacre wondering if Dr Kieran's dream, for change, was even now, a long way off.  
  
There was a knock at the door, shattering his thoughts like a fine wine glass on the hard wood floor of reality; he opened it to find the First Minister waiting for him.  
  
She gave him a small, tired, smile as she looked into his equally exhausted face, "Jonas, were you resting?"  
  
He rubbed his forehead with his fingertips and shook his head, "no, Ma'am."  
  
"Good, I'd like to run through the incident at the refugee camp with you."  
  
Jonas looked back into the room and started to stutter a response but Dreylock held up her hand, "just verbal for now, you can write your report up later," she soothed, "would you walk with me?"  
  
He nodded and shadowed her into the corridor, "have you eaten?" She asked.  
  
Food, when had he last eaten? His faced creased, the First Minister smiled, "very well, would you join me for supper, Jonas? I've made some humfla, it was my grandmother's recipe."  
  
She was rewarded with a smile, "I would be honoured, Ma'am," he said, dutifully.  
  
Dreylock turned to the City Guard who was two steps behind them, "that will be all for now, Sergeant, thank you."  
  
The guard scowled, "I have my orders Ma'am."  
  
"Yes, and I have my own Parliamentary Guards who will take very good care of us, now please."  
  
The Sergeant went to argue but the Minster's face was firm, he nodded with a quick salute and skulked off.  
  
Jonas held back a triumphant grin, knowing he would probably end up paying for this later but still he felt a wave of freedom cause through his veins.  
  
Dreylock stole a glance at him and buried her anxiety, calling to the leader inside her to help her through the next few, precious, hours. She knew Jonas was perceptive, uncannily so, and she had put a lot of trust and responsibility on his young shoulders but boys in Kelowna had a habit of maturing early or dying young and she knew that Jonas would do his duty, whatever she asked.  
  
As they walked, the rhythm of their footsteps surrounded their journey, "were there any survivors?" She asked with hope.  
  
Jonas shook his head; Dreylock stopped and touched his arm, "not even the children?"  
  
He looked into her face, which was pleated with the gentle lines of responsibility and fought with her eyes, "there were no survivors, Ma'am," he added, quietly.  
  
She touched her forehead, trying to hide the emotion racing through her, "the guards, where were the camp guards?"  
  
"The official report states that the mob was just too big, they lost control."  
  
"Did you question them?"  
  
He nodded and looked away.  
  
"Did you believe them?" She enquired.  
  
He turned back, watching the light display in the streams of sliver highlighting her auburn hair, "no," he whispered, so that the corridor would not pick up the echo.  
  
She sighed, knowing it was the answer she'd expected and continued to walk towards her private rooms, "Why?" She posed, wondering what misplaced words had turned everyday people into murdering hordes.  
  
It was Jonas's turn to sigh, "they believed the refugees were infected with Goa'uld lava."  
  
The First Minister stopped outside her door, closing her eyes for a moment in silent reflection then she opened them and nodded to Jonas to follow her inside.  
  
The smell of the thick root soup dashed across the room to Jonas and squeezed his taste buds dry. Dreylock motioned for him to sit at the small wooden table as she dished the potage into two rustic bowls, "I've given my staff the night off," she said apologetically, hoping he wouldn't sense the strain in her voice.  
  
She handed him a bowl and he drank from it, as was the custom.  
  
They sat talking politely for half hour about trivial things to pass the time but Jonas was all too aware that her mind was on other matters.  
  
He placed his empty bowl on the table and held her eyes, for a moment, reading her face, "First Minister," he began but she got up abruptly, leaving most of her soup and turned her back on him.  
  
"Jonas, I'm sorry," she said, quietly.  
  
"Ma'am?"  
  
"I'm sorry for asking you to return, for telling you that you would not be considered a traitor. I sincerely believed it to be true; that people would see what you did was for the good of Kelowna, for the planet. Especially when I saw what the Goa'uld were capable of, I knew the only way we stood a chance against them was to unite the planet."  
  
Jonas stood up, her words sounded so final, "First Minister, I."  
  
"Please, please let me finish," she said turning to meet him with a soft smile. "I thought everyone would see this great threat to our world and that we would all pull in one direction for the common good; but I was wrong. I am losing the struggle with the Andari and Tiranians over petty disputes and Ravel is in the wings waiting to pounce and rip this government to pieces."  
  
She paused for a moment taking a gulp of water from the tall glass on the table. She looked at Jonas as if he was the only person left she could trust, "Jonas, Ravel is planning a coup."  
  
The room seemed to grow still, "Do you know when?"  
  
She raised her hand leaving the question unanswered; she didn't want to lie. "I have a spy in his camp, someone close to him whom he trusts. He managed to get a garbled message through to me but without any details and I need those details, Jonas, they're vital."  
  
She let the words hang in the space between them, hoping she hadn't stumbled their sentiment and shown him her soul. "You want me to meet with your informant," Jonas stated, his eyes never leaving her face.  
  
Dreylock let her head drop and fell against the table for support, "I've no one else to ask, there is no one else I trust more."  
  
She looked up at him and he nodded, she took a deep breath, "I've arranged transport for you on a mobile canteen with two men from my personal protection unit. They know the streets, they've run many clandestine meetings for me, they're the best I have. You will all be disguised as City Guards and head towards the Southside of the city, to the docks. There are several of Ravel's units stationed there to stop looting and generally keep the peace. My informant will make himself known to you."  
  
"How?"  
  
She went over to a drawer and pulled a small box from within. Opening the box she placed a gold and onyx band on her middle finger and showed it to Jonas. "We still want to change our world for the better, Jonas, and try to keep within the boundaries of what's moral and right, only now we have to fight for those values."  
  
She closed her eyes and bowed her head in shame, "Doctor Kieran was a good man, I knew the Naquadria had affected his mind but I was too scared to voice my concerns and jeopardised my position on the Council. I am sorry Jonas I should of done more."  
  
Jonas looked away, "I've been there," he said plainly.  
  
"Yes and now maybe I have a chance to redeem my actions as you have done," she looked at the timepiece on the wall, "we must hurry."  
  
She pulled out a spare uniform and gave it to Jonas, "Please," she motioned to a small office.  
  
Jonas nodded and entered the room.  
  
She waited, watching the ornate clock, mesmerised by the ticking of the seconds and feeling her heart crash against her rib cage.  
  
Jonas didn't take long to change and was soon stood before her, threatening in the dark garb of a City Guard. She furnished him with a side arm and cap and stepped back to view their deception, nodding approvingly.  
  
"Jonas, I've one more thing to give you," she handed him a cylindrical container, "it's microfiche containing all the documentation of the investigation into your sister's murder. I know you requested it several times in the past."  
  
He looked down at her outstretched hand and took the gift from her without looking up. Their hands touched and just for a moment he felt something stir deep within her, something she was fighting to restrain, something that was shrouded in a veil of control; he stepped back.  
  
"Here, you'll need another glove," she ventured, taking one from the pocket in her tunic, "the one gives you away."  
  
He nodded, "they're waiting for you outside the red zone," she continued opening the door for him, "good luck Jonas."  
  
He was aware of something, a nagging voice tickling his senses, he turned back to Dreylock, "Ma'am."  
  
She stopped him, "you must go, Jonas," she replied with the stern voice of a leader.  
  
He hesitated before nodding and went out into the corridor closing the door behind him.  
  
"Fate and fortune Jonas Quinn," Dreylock whispered, falling against the wood of the door knowing, now, she was truly alone.  
  
==========  
  
Until next time, on the streets of a city destroyed!!!  
  
Take care,  
  
:o) 


	4. Saxony

Saxony - Chapter 4  
  
Disclaimer - Yep I own the lot, oh, hang on, no, no I don't, just forgot there for a moment.  
  
Hi guys, thanks for the reviews, they're keeping me going in these dark, cold nights!!!  
  
:o)  
  
=========  
  
The old diesel truck shook the silence as it drove into the night, its lights splitting the gloom and creating bloated shadows. Buildings stood like ghostly spectres against the darkness, their skeletons twisted and deformed in memory of the sculpting fire that had destroyed them. Fortune had been kind to some who remained intact amid the rubble of their fellow structures and these carried the flickering lights of candles, glowing against the fractured and broken glass of the windows.  
  
Most of the Kelownans, from this part of the city, had been relocated until their homes could be rebuilt. Their place had been taken by Tiranian and Andari workers, who were helping with the redevelopment of the city and were too scared to move into the camps, preferring, instead, to reside in the inhospitable shells left by the Goa'uld. These 'dwellings' were marked with an orange circle to indicate they were in the possession of immigrant labourers and so the City Guards could keep a watchful eye on the inhabitants.  
  
Jonas watched the devastation file passed the window, wedged between the driver, Karajan, and a second man called Hawks. They had not spoken since the van door had slid shut and the engine had coughed into life.  
  
Rain now hit the windscreen, like a swam of fat bugs, making it harder to manoeuvre the truck through the potholes and debris that littered the roads. Karajan worked his hand over the windscreen as it began to cloud up; still unable to see he craned his neck through the side window to get his bearings.  
  
He slowed down and quickly wound the glass back into place as the headlights illuminated a tall, emancipated figure, drawn to the truck's sluggish progress through the streets. Hawks readied his weapon as the man stood in front of them, his torso naked and caked in city filth, challenging them with his fist while howling at the night sky.  
  
"It's the Naquadria," Karajan explained. "It poisons the brain, makes them insane," he laughed at his own rhyme, "usually they're rounded up by a 'clean up' unit and shipped outside the city where they can be properly dealt with, I mean, fate forbid that they should start to contaminate us," Karajan's eyes glowed with malice and Jonas felt an unease settle within him.  
  
The man continued his demonstration and Hawks aimed his handgun through his open window, "wait," Jonas cried, placing his hand on the other passenger's arm.  
  
"It's okay, Ambassador," Hawks reassured, "I'm just gonna scare 'im a little," he realigned his aim and the gun flared in the darkness, echoing round the silent buildings like a freight train.  
  
The man's eyes bulged with a sudden fear and he stepped back from the vehicle. Hawks let off another shot and the figure turned and scurried into the engulfing darkness, screaming in panic.  
  
"See, Ambassador," Hawks offered, smiling at Karajan, "no harm done."  
  
The truck resumed its course, the rain had stopped and the air became a mix of stale aromas. Jonas sat back in his seat and tried to relax but his intuition was yanking at the hairs on the back of his neck as he sensed both men were preoccupied with something other than the task ahead.  
  
Karajan broke through his thoughts; "there's a lot of that kinda paranoid madness on the streets, it's the fall-out from the bomb. You must have seen it yourself, Ambassador, when you worked on the Naquadria Project?" He raised his eyebrows, innocently, at the younger man.  
  
Jonas said nothing, thinking back to Doctor Kieran and the other scientist, he sighed and rubbed his forehead; the two other men exchanged looks.  
  
Karajan turned his attention back to the road and suddenly stood on the brake. The truck slid to a lumbering halt, throwing the occupants towards the windscreen and then upright again, "shit," the driver hissed, looking ahead.  
  
Jonas followed his gaze and saw their route was blocked by an array of twisted metal, "we're gonna have to move it," Karajan said, pushing the headlights to main beam, "be on your guard it could be an immigrant trap, to get the truck."  
  
Jonas looked over his shoulder at the canteen, "they're just hungry," he offered.  
  
"Yeah," replied Hawks, exiting the vehicle, "I'll remind you of that when they're smashing your face in with an iron pole," he spat onto the ground and huffed.  
  
Jonas followed him and then stopped, his blood chilling in his veins as he tried to focus on the scene before him. To the left of the obstruction, hanging like washing drip-drying on a line, were six bodies on a makeshift gibbet. The wood creaked, eerily, as the ragged mobile swayed against the night and above them, on an unscathed building, a marble statue of Saxony, the ancient Kelownan Goddess of compassion, smiled benevolently down.  
  
Jonas took a step towards the figures, his eyes widening in horror as they became distinguishable as men, women and boys.  
  
"Tianian and Andari looters," Hawks enlighten, "caught stealing from Kelownan citizens. These bastards go through rubble, pocketing the valuables of the dead or selling them on." He spat again, "scum."  
  
Jonas looked at the frail, threadbare beings turning on the ropes thinking they deserved a good meal rather than death, "but some are children," he said in accusation.  
  
Hawks flicked his eyes over the bodies, "Yeah, well, boys grow into men and that's two less prospective foreign 'activists' for the government to worry about."  
  
Jonas looked round at him, "the First Minister would never agree to this sort of action."  
  
"The First Minister don't come down here, Ambassador, she wouldn't know what it takes to keep this scum in order. They don't think like us, see," Hawks replied pointing to his temple, "they don't understand rules and regulations, like civilized people, but this, this they understand!"  
  
He grabbed Jonas's arm, "Kelowna can't afford to pamper to these inbred retards."  
  
Jonas felt the pressure of Hawks' grip and sensed something else hiding behind his steel eyes. The moment froze and an ominous breeze circled around them, feeding Jonas's anxiety. He felt the man's heart beat within him and glimpsed the flicker of his inner mind as it processed its murderous ambition; they were going to kill him.  
  
Jonas released himself from Hawks' grasp and stepped away. He looked between the two men and saw the intent burning in their eyes. The world slowed as if it was free from its axis and time was just a thing to be manipulated; that's when he sensed it, reverberating round the empty buildings, burrowing into his heart with claw like fingernails.  
  
Karajan's eyes darted around the stillness as if he felt it too, a disquiet whispering in his mind and pounding his spine. He looked towards Jonas and his fingers went, instinctively, to his gun, never taking his eyes from his prey.  
  
Jonas stepped further back, watching the smile spread on Karajan's face as he drew weapon, there was no need for pretence now, each of the players knew why they were there.  
  
Something split the air, cracking the silence with its force of movement as it pushed its way through the empty space.  
  
Karajan's neck snapped back, as if he was laughing at fate's interference and his blood flew into the night, hitting the ground like a spring shower. The gun tumbled from his hand as he slumped into the dirt, his face holding a last look of astonishment as the bullet channelling into his skull severing his thought process.  
  
Hawks tried to react, turning into the darkness as he fumbled for his sidearm but the night was too quick for him and destiny's fingers seized his soul.  
  
Jonas felt something warm flick across his face as Hawks twisted to face him revealing a violent bubble of blood escaping from his throat. The weapon Hawks was clutching dropped from his grasp as his hands went automatically to cover the seeping wound.  
  
Jonas moved forward and tried to steady the injured man as he fell to his knees in a gurgled cry of pain unaware of the footsteps that approached them. Hawks looked at the younger man, fighting the clock for each breath owed to him while knowing it was pumping the life from his body. Jonas spread his hand over the wound, to try and stem the bleeding, but someone grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him to his feet.  
  
"Leave him," came a gruff voice, directed at Jonas, "we have to get moving, a City Guard patrol will be here any minute."  
  
Jonas turned to look at the speaker, "Ambassador Quinn, I am Colonel Milo Chufa of the 'disbanded' Kelowna Delta Militia," he held his hand out so Jonas could glimpse the gold and onyx band in the headlights, "my unit and I have been sent to escort you safely to our base and your contact there," he spoke quickly and was clearly irritated at having to explain himself.  
  
Jonas looked back at Hawks, who was still hanging on to life, "we can't just leave him."  
  
The Colonel signalled to another man who was half hidden in the shadows, a second slug thumped through the night air and buried itself into Hawks' cranium; Hawks became still.  
  
Jonas looked at Chufa in disbelief but the older man spoke first, his tone stern, "we're at war, boy, this isn't some game, there is no time for misplaced sentiment. Do you think either of these, these carrion, would have shown you any mercy? They were going to kill you and they would have enjoyed doing it." He looked at the limp bodies dangling on the ropes, "save your protests for those who need it, the innocents caught in this vast web of political intrigue, they are more deserving, now please, we must get moving."  
  
Jonas said nothing; instead he followed the Colonel into the night, taking a moment to glimpse back at the truck. Several ragged boys had appeared like phantoms from the twisted metal around them and were slowly stalking the vehicle.  
  
"Night Fishers," one of the men from the unit informed Jonas, "Tiranian and Andari orphans, they live in the catacombs of the old city living off what they can find in the ruins." He drew Jonas's attention back to the gallows with a cock of his head, "dangerous living, though, the City Guards have stopped wasting their bullets on them. Last night they tried to burn them out, I guess they failed," he said with an ironic laugh, "they're a tough lot and a good source of information, cheap too."  
  
"Jorn, less of the chatter, this isn't a social outing," Chufa reprimanded.  
  
They cautiously picked their way through the remains of wrecked and burnt out cars and mounds of rubble, the Colonel keeping in close contact with his base on the radio. Several times the unit scattered, blending in to the surrounding area, poised for a fight when they thought a patrol was nearing their position but tonight they were lucky; it seemed the City Guards had other orders.  
  
Their journey ended in a damp alleyway, whose entrance was being touted by a couple of dire prostitutes. Chufa nodded in their direction and they moved out into the street, keeping a close eye on the surrounding area while tottering about on dilapidated heels. Jonas then realise they too were part of this covert operation.  
  
"After you, Ambassador," the Colonel said, motioning to an open manhole cover.  
  
Jonas looked into the gapping hollow and started to descend the rusted ladder.  
  
=======  
  
;o) 


	5. The General

Disclaimer, still not mine  
  
Don't sue, spent all my money on shiny, glittery things of no real value.  
  
Hi  
  
A longer chapter this time...  
  
=============  
  
The cramped, red-bricked, tunnels dripped with water, which leaked from old lead pipes overhead and fused the lights that followed the course of the passageways. This flickering half-light extenuated Jonas's shadow on the curvature of the wall making him appear like a sinister apparition in a silent horror film.  
  
The Colonel directed him to a derelict pump room full of rusting old pipes and long forgotten memories of usefulness. He sat down in the gloom, fighting against the shadows and scratching noises that filled the room and played on his anxieties. A large, inquisitive, rodent leapt out of its dark corner, its nugget eyes shining with bravado. It sniffed the air with its long, pointed snout, resting back on its bulky hind legs and displaying the curve of its large, sharp, incisors. Jonas watched it inhale his scent, mesmerised by the way the light pooled like a diesel spill on its ragged, sable pelt and the coil of its, scaly, flesh coloured, tail. It bounded fearlessly forward, its front paws tipped with needle sharp claws ready to strike to satisfy an insatiable hunger that foamed from its gaping mouth.  
  
The door opened again startling the rat back to its hideaway in search of something less adventurous to stalk. Chufa entered the room along with another dressed in the City Guard uniform of a General. Jonas got to his feet and directed his question at the white haired Colonel, "is this some sort of trick?"  
  
The other man answered, "this is no trick, Jonas Quinn."  
  
Jonas looked into the pale blue eyes of Josip Wolf, Ravel's most trusted aide, "you're, you're my contact?" He enquired, the disbelief showing in his voice.  
  
"Who better," the General replied, spreading his hands.  
  
Jonas shook his head in doubt and paced for a moment trying to see if he could feel the other man's presence, fishing for some sort of guidance. He looked towards Chufa, "this is who you were sent to meet, boy," the old man replied, fractiously, looking at his watch with impatience.  
  
General Wolf moved closer and held out his hand, showing Jonas the ring on his finger, "you were told to look for this?"  
  
Jonas nodded, "good," Wolf answered, smoothing his barren head with his palm, "then we can begin. Please," he motioned for Jonas to sit back down, "I am sorry for the venue for our meeting but tonight this is the safest place to be," he exchanged a look with the Colonel who agreed with a 'humph'.  
  
Wolf reached inside his breast pocket and pulled out a tin containing crudely rolled cigarettes filled with iron grey, home grown, tobacco. He looked towards Jonas, offering him one but the younger man declined with a shake of his head.  
  
The General shrugged, taking a cigarette from the container and placing it in his mouth. He gave Chufa the tin and lit the rollup with a flare of a match and let the distinct aroma wash the stale air from the room. He sat down, casually, in front of Jonas, trying to put the younger man at ease, sensing the bewilderment and suspicion that was radiating from those open, green, eyes. He took another lung filling drag and spoke in a voice of rustic honey, "I see you are unharmed from your run in with Ravel's men," he stated, pointing with the aid of the burning tip.  
  
Jonas looked up, troubled, searching the General's, ice blue, eyes for the truth, "Ravel's? But the First Minister said they were her own men."  
  
Wolf nodded and flicked ash onto the floor, "a little white lie," he acknowledged. "We've been using Hawks and Karajan for months, now, to feed misinformation to the Commander."  
  
"Then she knew they would try and kill me?"  
  
"Yes, but she also knew I would get to you first," Wolf spoke the words clearly, his tone reassuring. "She had no choice, if she had warned you, would you really have been able to hide the fact, squashed in that cab with two men intent on taking your life? And if she had used anyone else to escort you to this meeting, Ravel would have been suspicious and you may not of made it out the front gate."  
  
Jonas digested the General's words, for a moment, staring at his hands and then smiled softly, "she could have told me, I would not have shown that I knew," he looked up and held Wolf's gaze without blinking.  
  
The General was use to assessing men, he had risked his life and countless others on this ability to judge the soul of an individual and he realised, looking into the depths of this young man, he believed him.  
  
The room suddenly shuddered, dislodging dust and plaster down from the ceiling. A cloud of grime circulated the small space, stealing the oxygen and choking its three occupants. Chufa's radio clicked as the tremor subsided and he stepped outside to get a better signal.  
  
Jonas stood up, listening to the roar of noise coming from the street above, sensing the inauspicious mood that came down with the sift of age.  
  
The Colonel came back into to room, shaking the powdered debris from his head, "it's started," he stated, plainly, "the Commander's hit the Parliamentary building first, with a large force, they didn't stand a chance."  
  
Jonas looked between the two, puzzled by their restraint, "the First Minister," he cried, walking towards the exit.  
  
The General rose to meet him and lay a gentle hand on his shoulder, "she knew it was tonight, Jonas," he said, softly, "she sacrificed herself so Ravel would not suspect that we have already moved weapons and equipment into the mountains so we can organise our resistance from there."  
  
"Then why this meeting?" Jonas asked, sitting back down, disheartened.  
  
Wolf sighed, "to keep up the pretence, let Ravel believe we were still in the dark and because Dreylock wanted you safe."  
  
"But the others, the other Ambassadors?"  
  
It was Chufa who spoke, "those not working for Ravel, will be shot," he said bluntly. He reached inside his coat pocket and pulled out a silver flask, "here," he said offering it to Jonas.  
  
"I don't.." Jonas began.  
  
"Take it boy, it's going to be a long night."  
  
Jonas absentmindedly removed his gloves to get a better grip on the polished surface. He slowly drank from the flask, the bitter liquid spreading warmth into his body, "but all those people?" He questioned.  
  
Wolf took the flask from Jonas's grasp, "we couldn't risk telling anyone, Dreylock managed to get a few members of her guard reassigned but we had to go careful, we couldn't tip our hand, the Commander has eyes and ears everywhere."  
  
The General tipped his head back and drank a large mouthful of the russet liquid. He closed his eyes, letting his emotions surface and escape, for a just a second, as he tried to drown the loss of innocent souls that weighed on his conscience.  
  
Jonas felt his hand start to tremble, as the strength of these feelings flew at him, unconsciously lighting the eye on his palm to view what Wolf was trying to suppress. He heard the First Minister's voice echo around his head, 'not even the children?' 'Not even the children?' 'Not even the children?' And he saw, once again, the mutilated bodies frozen in the snow.  
  
Wolf looked down at Jonas and took a step back as the younger man's eyes became white. He felt something other than the alcohol creep into his body, sensing an intrusion into his soul, "what the hell?"  
  
Chufa reached for his gun and pointed it at the still figure of Jonas but the General stood between them, aware that there was no real danger.  
  
He watched intently, as Jonas's eyes cleared and looked at him accusingly, "the attack on the refugee camp, it was down to you and Dreylock."  
  
Wolf was stunned, "how, how did you..?"  
  
Jonas looked down toward his palm, which was burning with light, "why?" He asked curling his hand into a fist.  
  
The General sighed, leaning back against the brick, choosing to look away, "we needed the Andari to think that Ravel was behind the attack on their citizens. During the negotiations they've been sitting on the fence, watching and waiting to see who will win the Kelownan power struggle before deciding who they will support."  
  
"But they know Ravel's politics, his prejudices?"  
  
"Yes, but they're also tired of fighting and they know the Commander's in a stronger position with the Kelownan people. Ravel's held secret talks with their Ambassador, stating his party has no territorial demands and offering them a Kelwona-Andari Peace Agreement if they will back his government."  
  
"But surely they know he won't keep to it?"  
  
"He's a very charming and persuasive orator, Jonas, and the Andari came very close to signing that treaty."  
  
"And then their people were butchered," Jonas continued, "limbs were hacked from their bodies, skulls bludgeoned and everyone of them, even the children, had their abdomens crudely sliced open to see if they contained Goa'uld lava and this was all done in the name of politics?" He reached for the ring around his neck, gripping it in his fist, "what about the values of The Coll? The principles that this symbol is meant to stand for? Ordering this attack makes us no better than Ravel!"  
  
Wolf remained calm and impassive, "morals and principles are for the victors of war, Jonas, the politicians, not for those fighting it." He gave a wry laugh, "unfortunately, to beat our enemy we must sometimes think and act like him."  
  
Jonas shook his head, massaging his temples with his thumb and forefinger. He felt lost, the ideals Dr Kieran had drilled into him felt suddenly sullied and distorted. Did he have the right to judge this action, to judge them? After all, he had let a honourable man die, saving his planet while he had done nothing but cower in the corner. Then he'd kept his head down, as he'd always done, when Dr Jackson had been labelled a saboteur, too frightened to speak up, to draw attention to himself. Where were his principles then? He looked Wolf in the eye, "but we do not want to turn into our enemy," he said.  
  
The General took another smoke from his tin and lit it. "Do you know why I shave my head, Jonas?"  
  
The younger man looked puzzled, Wolf continued, "in memory of my time spent in a Tiranian prison camp, it's the lice you see," he ran his hand over his head, again. "There were three thousand of us, to begin with, crammed into space enough for a thousand and made to work every daylight hour building roads and laying track; I spent the last two years of the war there. Do you know how I survived, that long, when they only fed us enough rations to satisfy a mouse? It wasn't by my principles, it was by my wits and through the death of my comrades."  
  
Jonas looked at him openly, Wolf smiled, there was no hiding from this young man, the General swallowed, "I am not proud of what I did, back then, taking food from those dying or too weak with malnutrition to defend themselves but I did it to survive, as did others."  
  
"At the end of the war, there was only about two hundred of us left and I was one of the lucky ones, along with Commander Ravel."  
  
Jonas looked surprised, Wolf smiled sadly, "yes, he was there to," he resumed, "why do you think he puts so much trust in me now?"  
  
He sucked on his cigarette and blew out a spiralling plume of smoke, "when I walked out of that camp, I vowed, that, if it were in my power I would make sure that no human being, be it Tiranian, Andrai or Kelownan would go though that kind of hell again. That I would make it my mantle to strive for some kind of peace between our nations so no man would have to choose between watching a friend die or living another day.  
  
"When Ravel walked to freedom, through those gates, he took nothing but hatred away with him. I will not turn into our enemy, Jonas Quinn, I know the consequences of my actions, I am no saint, no hero and there are days when I cannot look at my reflection in the mirror and I will carry those scars around with me until the grave."  
  
He sighed heavily, "be assured that the man in me still believes in the values of The Coll, even if, sometimes, the soldier has to step over those boundaries."  
  
A silence settled in the room while Jonas held his head in his hands contemplating Wolf's statement. He tried to clear his throat, which felt like it was coated with layers of dust, Chufa, cautiously, handed him the flask. Jonas coughed before speaking, "you, you said you moved your equipment up into the mountains, why? Why not fight here, in the city?"  
  
Wolf sat back down, "because we would be out gunned and out numbered. The city has always belonged to Ravel."  
  
"I don't understand, surely the Tiranian's and now the Andrai would help you, especially after the murder of their Ambassadors and their, their citizens," Jonas replied, putting the flask to his lips.  
  
"Yes, but the Commander has been making other plans, surreptitiously, plans that involve a new ally, one with advance technology and weapons, one that could destroy a city from space."  
  
Jonas went to say something but Wolf answered his question, "Ravel has made a pact with the Goa'uld."  
  
The younger man was stunned, "what?"  
  
"Wartime makes strange bedfellows, Jonas Quinn and believe me, if I was in his position, I would have done the same thing. You, yourself said that the Goa'uld can smell Naquadria a galaxy away, well then, it makes sense to align yourself with a powerful System Lord who will protect the planet and your regime from the others."  
  
"Do you know which one, which System Lord?"  
  
The General shook his head, "Ravel's the only one who has access to the communication device."  
  
Jonas rubbed his chin, "but how, how did he contact the Goa'uld in the first place?"  
  
"He said he was visited by the System Lord's first prime, as Jaffa called Herak."  
  
"That can't be right," Jonas contradicted, "Herak is Anubis's first prime and Anubis is dead."  
  
"Are you sure?" Wolf asked.  
  
Jonas nodded, Wolf shrugged, "then maybe he is working for another master."  
  
Jonas stood up and began to pace again, "this doesn't make sense, why would a man like Ravel trust the Goa'uld, when he doesn't even trust his own staff?"  
  
Wolf stub out his cigarette on the brickwork and took a large intake of breath, "Ravel gets Goa'uld technology and he will be left alone to self govern the planet, with the help of some Jaffa to boost his ranks. He sees it as an opportunity to learn from the Goa'uld and use it as a stepping- stone for the Kelownan people. He wants to start his own Stargate project but the difference between his, and the one on Earth, is that he wants to conquer other planets and steal their technology, so that one day he will be able to defeat the Goa'uld and replace it with a Absolute Kelownan Ruling Body," he smile, dryly, "after all we are the supreme race."  
  
He nodded towards Jonas's palm, "and I'm beginning to believe in the myth myself and to understand why Kieran put so much faith in such a young man."  
  
Chufa spat on the ground, three times, to protect himself and then grumbled something about 'the evil eye'.  
  
Jonas ignored the cantankerous outburst and spoke to Wolf, "I know the Goa'uld, I've studied six years of intel on them, they never help anyone for free."  
  
"And you would be right, Ravel informed me, last night, of the three things the System Lord expects to get out of this agreement. Naquaidria."  
  
"But there's hardly enough in Kelowna to sustain a Goa'uld's appetite for power," Jonas offered.  
  
"But there is in Tirania and Andari and Ravel foresees that there will be an inexhaustible supply of slaves to mine these reserves. That brings me to the second thing we will provide this System Lord with, slaves, or to be precise most of the population of Tirania and Andari."  
  
Wolf paused for a moment and shook his head at the memory of the dinner he had shared with his commanding officer last night when all this had been revealed. The way the man had nonchalantly condemned millions to a life of slavery and had laughed about it 'saving him the time and the trouble of coming up with some other solution of disposing of these inferior races.'  
  
Jonas broke his thoughts, "you said three things?"  
  
Wolf looked at the younger man and said solemnly, "Earth. Once the coup has ended, it was my assignment to contact the SGC for an urgent meeting and when they opened their iris, I was to send a combined force of Jaffa and City Guards through and disable Stargate Command."  
  
"Not destroy, it?"  
  
"No, the System Lord seems to want the SGC intact, there's an item, some key that they have, that seems of high importance. Ravel probably knows, by now, of my betrayal and will be making plans to give this mission to another. He made it very clear it was of top priority."  
  
Jonas looked a both men, "I have to warn the SGC," he said.  
  
Both Wolf and Chufa nodded their agreement.  
  
============  
  
Thanks for staying with me  
  
:o) 


	6. White Rabbit

Disclaimer not mine, still.  
  
Still earning no money for this  
  
***WARNING - A bit on the gruesome side  
  
Thanks to CT xx  
  
Thanks again for your reviews guys xxx  
  
Lyrics used:-  
  
WHITE RABBIT -- Jefferson Airplane - I know that they don't have Alice In Wonderland on Kelowna (the planet) but the song is so haunting and was great to use for the mad hooker.  
  
59th Street Bridge Song (Feelin' Groovy) - Simon and Garfunkel  
  
Ah, you may leave here, for four days in space,  
  
but when your return, it's the same old place,  
  
the poundin' of the drums, the pride and disgrace,  
  
you can bury your dead, but don't leave a trace,  
  
hate your next-door-neighbour, but don't forget to say grace  
  
Eve Of Destruction By Barry McGuire 1965  
  
==========  
  
The unkempt boy led Jonas through the labyrinth of the catacombs. He moved quickly, eager to get his task over with so he could get back on the streets, above, and join in the sporadic fighting with his friends; Jonas followed on behind, limping slightly. He judged the boy's age at about fourteen or fifteen, although when Wolf had introduced him, in the light of the pump room, he could see that the young face was already showing the ravages of someone old before their time.  
  
There was no light in these narrowing and claustrophobic tunnels so both Jonas and the boy, Llodi, carried a torch strapped, clumsily to their wrists. As they navigated the darkness, Llodi talked breathlessly, in Andari slang, hoping to impress the Ambassador with his numerous intrepid tales of daring and bloodshed to prove he was more than the years of his body.  
  
Llodi stopped at an intersection and peered into the grey gloom. Jonas joined him, shining his light to mirror the boy's, to help him find his bearings. Llodi pointed a tattooed arm, full of black and white gang art and crudely drawn symbols of courage, "marked above way," he whispered, his torch illuminating an old street placard, "stoop to go through, smaller way. Turn towards red light at the manhole cover, at the end is steps up to old storeroom."  
  
"Is that it?" Jonas asked, puzzled, "my way back into Parliamentary building?"  
  
He looked at the opening, which had been walled up some time ago, but an entrance had recently been chiselled into the brickwork small enough for a boy to slip through.  
  
Llodi turned his light to Jonas and nodded his grubby head, "I go no more on, not down there, there be whispers in the dark," he replied, in a voice of faltering maturity.  
  
Jonas raised his head to the entrance and listen to the drip of water and the odd flurry of movement from a rodent, sorting its way through the disorderly piles of old bones from long forgotten burials.  
  
Llodi continued, "the loose ones hide in the walls down there," he shined his torch at a 'smiling' skull, "the fresh ones, the ones that gets head sick and dead; they bad people. Guards dump their bodies for rat's food but they carry on with their whisperings, even though their mouths are all bone, they still call in the dark and laugh; I not go down there any more. Some do, some boys who think they brave but they comes back changed and shaking, talking of loose ones floating in the darkness, like cobwebs with faces."  
  
The boy's eyes were wide and spoke of fear and Jonas's senses tingled with foreboding, "I help you loosen the bricks," Llodi said, "but then I go."  
  
Jonas nodded and they began to dislodge the damp blocks making a gap wide enough for him to get through.  
  
The air from the other side was cold like an early morning sigh in a graveyard full of frost and Jonas felt there was something watching from the shadows with black and heartless eyes. The boy took a step back and Jonas eased his way through the opening, finding the tunnel, on the other side, slightly lower making him stoop. He turned back to thank Llodi but the boy had already disappeared except for the echo of his footsteps thrashing through the stream of water that ran along the floor of the passageways.  
  
Jonas shone his light back into the void but there was nothing ahead of him but darkness and.  
  
He heard voices, soft, indistinct, words that hissed, spiralling off the curvature of the walls. He began to wade forward, the murky water almost covering his knees, his movement disturbing the filth that had lain rotting for centuries. He bit back the urge to vomit at the heavy fist of stench that had balled down the back of his throat, squeezing his tonsils. He used a lip of stones, along the side, to hold onto, not wanting to lose his footing and fall into the mire.  
  
His palm blinked with light as manic laughter flew at him like a fireball down the tunnel, making his heart bounce against his ribcage. A cloak of perspiration covered his body as he sensed the presence of many souls, lost in a maze of madness and homing in on his light.  
  
Again the laughter, this time a woman's, calling to him with sugar, coated, words that would rot a body of its innocence. He smelt her harsh perfume, its aggressive scent making his nosebleed, showing him her true nature, the murderess behind the whore in the white dress and silk slippers.  
  
An orb of light came towards him, burying itself onto his chest with electrical stems of blue sparks. Jonas was thrown from his body, his mind taken over by the energy's memories, trapped in its playback loop.  
  
He was led on a bed in a squalled room decorated in grime. The dark, midnight, sheets were still warm and smelt of overuse and something, something, dry and heavy, while a small, dusty, window let in the air from a back street full of decaying rubbish. He felt groggy, was it from alcohol? An open bottle lay on its side, winking at him like a cheap hooker displaying her wares.  
  
A woman's voice made him turn his head, which seemed weighty and cumbersome and he saw a figure sat at a dresser raking a comb through her abundant, dark, curls. He could hear the gruelling sound of the movement as she pulled large strands from her head in an attempt unsnarl her hair and make it straight. He felt sick, his breathing became laboured, he felt like he was suffocating or drowning, he wasn't sure which.  
  
The woman turned to face him, smearing her plumb lipstick from left to right with the back of her hand. She was naked from the waist up, her skin pale, and deep cuts scared her body, an ugly contrast shining against the network of delicate, blue, lace veins.  
  
She seemed not to notice him lying there; instead she danced to a tune in her head smiling like her lips were frozen. She turned towards the bed and curled a length of hair round her fingers, "one pill makes you larger and one pill makes you small, and the ones that mother gives you don't do anything at all," she laughed, like she was intoxicated but it was madness that inspired her thoughts. She sat down on the bed, putting her head on his chest, adorning his torso in a raven's wing of hair.  
  
She listen to his breathing, closing her eyes, "and if you go chasing rabbits, and you know you're going to fall, tell 'em a hookah smoking caterpillar, has given you the call."  
  
She lifted her head, from under its shroud of black and shifted her body to straddle him, ripping her tight skirt to do so. She studied him, her head twitching at angles as it moved almost robotically on the glass of her neck. Her eyes were a mix of colours and they burnt with detachment as she began to rock on his hips. She smiled, biting her bottom lip and reached under the embroidered bedspread to pull out a large carving knife that glinted sharp and silver in this blunt and grubby masque. She began to use it to slice through her own skin near the top of the breast, touching the blood, that oozed dark like pitch, with her fingertip and spreading it over her lips.  
  
"When men on the chessboard get up and tell you where to go, and you've just had some kind of mushroom and your mind is moving low," she laughed again and walked her bloody fingers up his sternum to his lips.  
  
She leant over and kissed him and Jonas tasted the acidity of her blood. "When logic and proportion have fallen sloppy dead, and the White Knight is talking backwards, and the Red Queen's 'off with her head!' Remember what the dormouse said: 'Feed your head, feed your head, feed your head'"  
  
She lifted the knife above her head, gripping the handle with both hands, and brought it down to crack open his chest. Jonas felt his body jerk up with the force of the blow, driving his mind out of the dying shell, throwing him from the room back to the catacombs.  
  
The orb was pushed from his chest and he felt a watery hand stroke his face, "we'll feed your head", the voice hissed with malice, "we have plenty of nightmares waiting in the darkness for you."  
  
Jonas tasted blood in his mouth and wiped his sleeve across his lips. He spread his hand and propelled a sphere of light, from the eye, down the tunnel. Cries of mass panic ricochet like a thousand shots around him and then silence.  
  
He inhaled deeply and leaned against the side, rubbing his temples. He shone the torch in front of him, the circle of light shuddering with the jump of his nerves. He began to walk cautiously forward, the slurp of his footsteps, through the water, the only sound.  
  
A cold draught brushed passed his right side making him twist as he followed its movement. Something struck his outstretched arm, knocking the torch from its bindings and sending it into the muddy waters.  
  
Darkness.  
  
He slowly crouched down, holding his breath, to scared to release it, as he felt around, under the water, in the thick sludge that layered the floor.  
  
A laugh trickled through the cement along the walls and corkscrewed around him, disappearing into the roof.  
  
The eye opened and Jonas began to frantically search for the torch with his other hand. He let out an involuntary sigh when his fingertips located it and pulled it from the water. The light flickered, mischievously and then smiled with illumination.  
  
Forms moved in the distance, but they were not solid or living, they were phantoms creeping in the twilight of their death.  
  
Jonas went to stand but something seized his ankle from beneath. He felt the touch of icy fingers lock around his leg and he heard the knuckles click shut, one by one. He pushed the torch into his pocket and grabbed at the object restraining him pulling it away from his leg. The water parted and a festering corpse rose into the tunnel like a drowning man gasping for air. Its broken neck snapped, as it turned round to stare at Jonas with hollow sockets that once contained eyes. It grimaced, the jellified chunks of grey flesh that clung to its skeletal face, quivered and its lips ripped, "we've been waiting for you," it ventured, with its extinct voice. "You see us, feel us, hear our dark thoughts, stay with us, let us reach out to you and live within you."  
  
Jonas felt the hatred, the darkness, of each one of these souls, surround him like a hungry spider's embrace. They did not want the eye to weight their hearts, to be judged, they wanted to use it, to feed off his fear and gain strength.  
  
He let go of the decaying arm, with a mighty shove, sending its owner back into the depths. A deep laughter bubbled from below and Jonas moved back until his spine met with the brickwork. He used the eye to shield himself from their evil but he was weary, fatigued and they were strong, the madness of their minds fierce and determined, he would not be able to withstand them for long.  
  
"That's it," a voice jeered, "cower in the corner, you're good at that!"  
  
Tick, tock, tick, tock, Jonas Quinn," another one mocked. "Your friends are counting on you," the voice began to cackle, "they're doomed."  
  
Another transparent balloon of light floated towards him, graceful like a jellyfish caught on the tide. Electrical impulses, of disconnected thought, sparkled lilac around the gossamer of its being as it tried to break through his defence with poisoned tentacles, full of hatred, that splayed from its underside. He needed to block them out somehow, so their voices, their feelings, would just be a mummer and not imprint themselves on his soul. He needed to get through this, to warn the SGC, his friends and then it came to him, with a slap of understanding and he began to smile at the sunlight of memory.  
  
There had been a power outage at the SCG and Jonas had been stuck in the lift, with Colonel O'Neill, for over an hour. Luckily, Jonas had, had his notes with him so he'd settled down to read through them and use the time constructively. The Colonel, however, had paced the confined space impatiently, annoyed at being stuck and helpless and not being able to control the situation. Jonas had tried to relax but felt slightly uncomfortable as he sensed the Colonel's irritation, as he watched him read. Jonas tried to ignore him and concentrate on his work but O'Neill began to drum out a tune on the metal of the walls, then he whistled it, then he hummed it and then he finally threw in a few words and sang it, again and again. In the end Jonas closed the book up in resigned defeat and found the Colonel smiling at him in victory just before the elevator started to move again.  
  
Jonas smiled again knowing that there are always some things you can control in any given situation. He cleared his mind and bit his lip. He concentrated on calming his breathing and pacing his heart. He could still hear the voices but only vaguely, their words becoming inaudible sounds.  
  
He counted up, "one, two, three, four," then began his mantra, "slow down, you move too fast, you got to make the morning last. Just kicking down the cobble stones, looking for fun and feelin' groovy."  
  
He closed the shield and stood up, shining the torch ahead of him and began to wade forward through the soup of decaying malice. He closed his mind listening only to the words on his lips, "hello lamp-post, what cha knowin'? I've come to watch your flowers growin'. Ain't cha got no rhymes for me? Doot-in' doo-doo, feelin' groovy."  
  
He felt them cloud around him, their vigour weakening as they reached out with hands of mist to try and grab at him, but they were unable to connect, unable to torment him and nourish themselves on his suffering.  
  
The voices quickly dissolve into the uneven shadows of the brickwork but one remained, watching Jonas turned the corner, "come back lover," the woman pleaded, "I have so much to share with you, so much blood for us to bathe in."  
  
But Jonas wasn't listening.  
  
+++++  
  
Jonas let out a sigh of relief as he stooped round the corner, as he felt those unwashed souls fade back into the bowels of the earth.  
  
There was a scraping noise ahead of him. Jonas turned his torch off and pushed himself into the side of the chamber.  
  
The manhole cover, further down the tunnel was removed and light spilled into the gloom. Jonas covered his eyes as the brightness of the early morning burnt his sight. He heard muffled voices overhead and then something was deposited into the tunnel and the cover replaced. Jonas paused momentarily and then flicked on the torch and froze in shock at the pile of bodies, in various stages of decomposition that lay in front of him. He was unable to look away, his soul cataloguing the horror of the elongated, wax like figures, randomly strewn en mass, surreal and diverse in their arias of death.  
  
Water cascaded over them, from the streets above, as if it was a blessing, washing the trauma of their wounds, preparing them for burial but it wasn't the only mortician at work in the tunnels. Rats moved like labourers working on a great skyscraper, burrowing and raking through mound, making it seem almost alive with their movement.  
  
Jonas wanted to cry out, above the chatter of the hungry rodents, but the only thing that escaped him was a thick bile of revulsion.  
  
He steadied himself and focused on the glow of the red light to the left of the pyramid of corpses. He carefully pushed his way through the ever thickening water which had risen up to his thighs, stepping around the picked over remains that floated passed him. He balled the eye into his fist and tried not to look at the faces as he manoeuvred himself around the mass bodies, recognizing some were dressed in Ambassadorial robes.  
  
A sudden shift, caught in the light from his torch, made him swing his head round just as a large rat launched itself at him. Its teeth and the curl of its claws connected with the flesh of his shoulder making him tumble backward under the water. He was only submerged for a few seconds but it seemed like the rest of his life as his wake disturbed a few of the corpses that were poise precariously on the fringes and they plummeted to join him in the depths. There were stiff limbs and broken bodies everywhere, pinning him under the water, making him struggle for is freedom. His mind wandered to another instance, when he had been created, when he had fought for air in a laboratory tank and won the right to live. With this strength he pushed himself free again and ran for the red light without looking back.  
  
He didn't even try the door; he wasn't thinking clearly, he just needed to keep on running, to get away. The adrenaline flowing through his body propelled enough energy from the eye to knock it off its hinges with a loud crash. A City Guard came into the storeroom from an opposing door but Jonas was too quick for him. A bolt of blue light flew from his palm and sent the guard crashing into some shelves. Jonas picked the man up by his collar and threw him against the wall. The guard slumped to the floor but Jonas wasn't finished, he picked him up again and began pounding his face with his fist, expending the emotion that was burning red raw through his body. The man tried to block the unleashed fury by making a grab at his assailant and caught the chain around Jonas's neck, causing it to break and the ring to fall to the floor.  
  
Jonas stopped his attack, letting the man collapse to the ground and stepped back. He hugged himself, a self-loathing replacing the anger he had felt. He crouched down, daring himself to touch the other man's skin, to feel the pump of his heart through his veins. He was reminded of Chufa words, like a voice of reason on his shoulder "we're at war, boy, this isn't some game, there is no time for misplaced sentiment. Do you think either of these, these carrion, would have shown you any mercy? They were going to kill you and they would have enjoyed doing it. Save your protests for those who need it, the innocents caught in this vast web of political intrigue."  
  
He wiped his hand across his face and his eyes fell upon the discarded ring. He picked it up; it felt warm in his grasp and placed it back on his finger like it was his conscience.  
  
He quickly stripped the guard and put on his uniform, realising, for the first time, that his was sodden and smelt of death. It was a little big for him but he hoped, in the chaos of the coupe, that no one would pay too much attention to his attire.  
  
He put the microfiche in his breast pocket and took the other man's sidearm and made his way to the door. He placed the cap down on his head and put his palm to the door, stretching his mind outside into the corridor, sensing it was empty.  
  
Jonas put a fingertip to the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, trying to loosen the tension that was curling inside of him. He seized the door handle pushing it open and walked out into the corridor.  
  
========  
  
Hope you were ok with the gruesome stuff, until next time, take care, thanks for stopping by.  
  
:o) 


	7. Handprints

Sorry guys, it's been along time but I've had a lot of stuff to deal with at work (boo and yet hurray)  
  
Your reviews have been so great - thanks for taking the time to write xx  
  
OK Disclaimer - well just see other chapters.  
  
There are a few references to The 95th and Road Trip in the following chapter.  
  
Yeah, my blood's so mad, feels like coagulatin',  
  
I'm sittin' here, just contemplatin',  
  
I can't twist the truth, it knows no regulation,  
  
handful of Senators don't pass legislation,  
  
and marches alone can't bring integration,  
  
when human respect is disintegratin',  
  
this whole crazy world is just too frustratin' Eve of Destruction - Barry McGuire  
  
Also making an appearance - Wherever You Will Go - The Calling  
  
===========  
  
The gate room was three levels up; Dreylock's administration had moved it, to the Parliamentary building, after Anubis's attack.  
  
He moved swiftly along the passageway, heading for the stairs, trying to look like he belonged in the disarray of this once orderly and pristine complex of administration.  
  
Blood decorated the walls in splatters and handprints, doors hung by their hinges, paintings had been ripped from their brackets and destroyed by fire along with government papers whose fragile ashes carpeted the walkway.  
  
He made his way up the stairwell trying to ignore the odd body slumped against the steps, their last moments of life staining the titled surface in pools of terror. He used the banister to haul himself passed the remains as his legs started to give way. He turned the corner to head up the next flight when he heard a voice behind him implore softly, "please."  
  
Jonas looked over his shoulder as a young man, dressed in a kitchen uniform, held out his hand beseechingly, reaching for a connection with another living being. Jonas stopped and looked back up the stairway, attempting to concentrate on his task, "please," the man pleaded again, "don't leave me."  
  
Jonas gripped the metal rail tightly, struggling with the dilemma between heart and mind that was cutting his soul with a sharp blade. He looked down at the ring and took a step forward, closing his eyes against the resolution of his mind, his feet feeling like lead and his knuckles turning white. He stopped again and sighed, putting his chin to his chest before turning back to kneel beside the younger man and take the outstretched hand.  
  
"Thank you," the man half whispered, half cried, in a voice mixed with blood, "I was so scared, it's so dark."  
  
Jonas looked at the fatal wound stretching against the man's white garb and swallowed. He held on tight to the stranger's hand and smiled reassuringly down at him, sensing his trepidation at the approaching footsteps of death. The young man returned the smile, the pain and fear gone from his face now that he was no longer alone to confront his fate. He took one last, rasping, breath and the light faded from the chocolate of his eyes and Jonas felt the man's grip slip away but he held on. He wiped the congealed blood from the man's name badge, "the sky's above me, the grass is so sweet, this journey's circle, will now be complete. Peace for you crossing Joada Olio," Jonas whispered, releasing Joada's hand and gently closing the younger man's eyes against the harshness of the world.  
  
Jonas took a minute, trying to mend his threadbare soul, trying hard to calm the rage that was vexing his being. In the distance he heard the metallic march of a group of Jaffa making his heart race, pulling him from his anguish. He got up and continued his journey to the next level.  
  
He opened the door into the corridor and was met by a glare from a City Guard Sergeant, "where have you been, soldier?" he commented, noticing Jonas's dishevelled appearance.  
  
Jonas saluted with an arm across the chest, adrenalin pumping his heart, "sir, I've just come from a search of the catacombs."  
  
The Sergeant nodded and pointed to his shoulder, "I see you've been injured there son," he said.  
  
Jonas looked down at where the rat had attacked him, noticing the flow of blood for the first time. He stared at it for a moment, perplexed, realising how immune he was to its colour after seeing so much this night. "It's nothing, sir," he replied.  
  
The older man smiled at him, "you'll have something to show your grandchildren when they ask you about this glorious night."  
  
Jonas nodded then the Sergeant's eyes narrowed, "where are you heading?" He asked looking at the unit number blazon on his arm.  
  
Jonas glanced to his right, "I was asked to pick up some files, from the Records Office, for General Wolf."  
  
There was silence, Jonas stood there rigid hoping that news hadn't filtered down of the General's defection. The Sergeant nodded, "on your way, son, but be extra vigilant, there are a few loyalist scum still evading the bullet."  
  
"Yes sir."  
  
Jonas proceeded into the office, resting against the hardwood door as he shut it. There was a slight movement in the unlit room causing him to automatically draw his weapon but his mind sensed a familiarity in the scrambled colours of panic being painted by the other party. He flicked the light switch on with his mind, "Jonas," came the startled cry.  
  
"First Minister," Jonas replied, looking at the dishevelled dignitary in front of him.  
  
She looked at the gun and then met his gaze, her body suddenly taking on a more regal stance, "what, what are you doing back here?" She asked, narrowing her eyes.  
  
He put the weapon back in its holster a little clumsily, "the Goa'uld are planning an attack on Earth using the Kelownan stargate, I have to get back, to warn them."  
  
She nodded and let her body relax against a cabinet, pushing her palm over her hair to tidy it back into place, "I saw the Jaffa in the corridors, I guessed Ravel had made some sort of pact with them."  
  
There was a moment's silence, both of them sensing, in their short time apart, they had grown distant like two strangers in hell.  
  
Jonas toyed with the ring on his finger while looking at Dreylock's identical gold band, the words he wanted, needed, to ask folded on his lips, instead he enquired, "you are unharmed?" Noticing the blood sprayed on her bronze tunic.  
  
She rubbed her hand meticulously over the stain, "yes," she whispered, her voice breaking, "It's, it's not mine."  
  
She gazed beyond him and inhaled deeply, ready to lay bare a small part of her soul in confession, "I heard the first few shots tumble through the corridors and my resolve went. I was ready to sacrifice myself, to give Wolf more time, but the bravery played out in my mind faded when I heard the screams, the panic of those around me and my survival instinct took control of my body, I ran."  
  
Tears groped for freedom from her eyes, "I ran to the old escape tunnels that connect with the docks, my life suddenly becoming more important than those who lay dying protecting me, those whose blood I wear as a reminder of my weakness."  
  
She looked back towards him, her words becoming ironic, "Ravel knew me better than I knew myself, for he'd already blocked the passageways and as my guards fell, shielding me from harm, I made my way here to cower in the darkness with some dusty old files."  
  
She held his gaze, fighting through the blankness in his eyes, using her years of experience in negotiating to read him. She shook her head and looked away, Wolf had told him. "A fitting end for a Kelownan leader who ordered the deaths of a hundred, innocent, civilians don't you think?" She gestured around the room with her arms and stared back in his direction her heart hoping for some sort of compassion.  
  
Jonas looked away and kneaded his temples, feeling the heat of infection from the rat bite. Dreylock, swallowed, forgetting her own guilt and moved towards him, "you're hurt," she said, gently touching his wound while helping him to sit against a row of files.  
  
Jonas stared down at the stain, "I'd forgotten," he said absentmindedly, then looked at the blood on his hands, "I'm not sure if all this is mine."  
  
She knelt down beside him and began to unbutton his shirt, to examine the injury, "I could see the disappointment in your eyes, Jonas," she whispered, "I know that I have let you and the Kelownan people down."  
  
She took out a small square of cotton cloth from a pocket, "my mother always made me carry a clean handkerchief," she smiled and began to press it against the violence of the bite.  
  
He brushed her hair back, tenderly, and brought her chin up so he could look into her eyes and maybe reassure her. Dreylock swallowed and moved her head away, continuing to treat the wound. "What do you see, Jonas?" She asked, bitterly, feeling the tears burn her eyes again, "you have this knack of seeing into the hearts of others."  
  
He felt himself relax with her touch as she administered to him, uncurling his hand and opening the eye.  
  
Dreylock stopped and looked down at the glowing imprint in his palm, "what." She began.  
  
"The Eye Of Thoth," he replied letting her fingertips follow its impression, almost childlike in the wonder of their exploration, as the doctor, deep inside of her, resurfaced from the dignitary she now was.  
  
Her face creased in a hundred questions, Jonas smiled, "it's my way into the hearts of men."  
  
She looked up into his placid eyes, "and women?"  
  
He held her expectant gaze, grappling against the quandary of his own feelings of what had been done in the name of politics. In the end he opened his mind and let the eye reach inside her being, to weigh the very essence of her conscience. "You already judge yourself, Ma'am," he told her, "your soul struggles with the choices you've made, while your heart deliberates every action but these are overruled by your head, which has no room for sentiment. You are the mother of a whole new planet, a child called Langaria and like any mother you will do whatever it takes to make sure you offspring has a chance to live out its days in peace."  
  
He took her hand, "history will judge you, but not as hard as you judge yourself and the souls of those you carry, here, in your heart," he gave her a sad smile.  
  
See looked back at the mark on his palm, studying it, "how?" She asked, as the light grew fainter as Jonas reserved his energy.  
  
He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, "I'm not Kelownan," he stated, softly, "I was cloned from an Ancient, the people who first built the Stargate, who was also a host to a Goa'uld."  
  
"Then there is apart of you that is Goa'uld?" She asked, intrigued.  
  
"Yes, the self-healing part," he replied lightly.  
  
Dreylock smiled and touched his forehead, "you're burning up."  
  
Jonas nodded and started to stand, "I need to rest but we must get to the Stargate first, to warn Earth."  
  
Dreylock agreed and waited as Jonas checked the corridor, to see if it was safe for them to continue.  
  
========  
  
Two of Ravel's men guarded the door to the Stargate, mirrored by two Jaffa who carried Anubis's crest on their forehead. Jonas didn't need his 'spider sense' to know this was an uneasy alliance, it was there in their body language.  
  
He turned to Dreylock and handed her his handgun; she nodded as she took possession of it. Jonas straightened himself and walked around the corner to face them. He put on his best smile, as his hand worked on an energy ball out of sight of the four men.  
  
The two Jaffa were immediately suspicious and turned to face him, with rigid stance, raising their staff weapons. The two City Guards stood between them and their approaching colleague, showing the aliens just whose planet this was; the Jaffa lowered their arsenal and Jonas's smiled widened.  
  
When he was level with the Kelownan's Jonas let the knot of energy fly from his palm, knocking the two men out cold: he then fell to the floor.  
  
Dreylock backed herself against the wall, her heart beating like it was cleaved in two and her fear was leaking from the wound. She gripped tight to the handle of the gun, pressing the cold metal barrel against her lips to stop herself from crying out. She heard a muffled scream as the two guards were forced to the ground but her body did not respond to the urgency of her mind yelling, 'MOVE'.  
  
Jonas sensed Dreylock hesitate as the Jaffa armed their weapons, "oh, crap," he whispered, as he tried to muster enough energy to shield himself from the ensuing blast.  
  
Four shots echoed through the hallway like an intruder alarm and Jonas felt the ground shudder as the two remaining guards hit the tiled surface. He looked up at the First Minister who ran to his side, offering him a trembling hand and smiled.  
  
They quickly disarmed the guards and took the Jaffa's zats. "Let's hope they didn't have time to change the combination," Dreylock said, looking at the keypad on the door.  
  
She swiped a card, which was around her neck, through the related slot and punched in a five-digit code; the door slid open.  
  
===============  
  
The alien device, Sam was working on, sparked with a ruthless vengeance, catching her fingertips with a triumphant hiss. She let out a cry and instantly put her throbbing fingers to her mouth, throwing the small screwdriver across the desk in temper.  
  
She stared at the metallic object and rubbed her forehead, unable to smooth the thought creases that crinkled the softness of her skin.  
  
A light draught caressed the nape of her neck making her shiver with its touch and look up from her work.  
  
"Sam," the voice seemed to call from all around her.  
  
"Who's there?" She asked an empty office.  
  
A soft, velvety, glow materialized in front of her, enthralling her with its steady pulse of honeyed light.  
  
"Sam," the voice whispered again, its vibration making gentle ripples in the orb.  
  
Sam hesitated, her heart dripping with emotion, "Cassie?" She enquired, feeling her vocal cords stretch with the question.  
  
"Jonas needs you to open the iris, Sam," the voice replied, getting gradually weaker.  
  
"Jonas?" Sam questioned but the abrupt sound of the klaxon shattered the ball of light as Sergeant Davis announced, "unscheduled off world activation."  
  
Sam headed for the gate room.  
  
=============  
  
The door to the Kelownan Stargate resisted another blast, Dreylock looked at Jonas, "it's not going to hold for much longer."  
  
Jonas looked at the water haze of the activated gate, "the iris," he stumbled, "I have no way of contacting the SGC, I've no radio."  
  
He pressed his palm against his brow in frustration, looking at their only way to freedom and certain death.  
  
He closed his eyes in contemplation, running through the passageways of his mind, trying to find a doorway, a key, an answer to their predicament. He felt the room suddenly turn wintry, sending a shudder of acknowledgement through his skin and caressing his heart that was still frozen in memory.  
  
"So lately, been wondering, who will be there to take my place. When I'm gone you'll need love, to light the shadows on your face."  
  
Jonas recognised the words that floated from behind him, he turned to face the First Minister; but it wasn't her. Instead another stood in her shoes, "Cassie," he said quietly.  
  
She moved to where he was stood, her hair sparkling with pure light and smiled, touching his face with her outstretched hand. "Jonas," she responded, like his name was nectar on her lips.  
  
They moved closer together, unaware of events unfolding around them, their lips joining with the hunger of separation.  
  
Jonas felt his body tremble with intimacy; yearning for what was lost to him, wanting his soul to feel whole again.  
  
Cassie groomed her fingers wildly through his hair wanting more than she could give him, experiencing the desires of being human again and in love. They pulled apart like opposing magnetic poles; breathless with attraction but knowing they were lost to each other.  
  
"You must go, the iris will be open," she said.  
  
Jonas watched the tears spill from her eyes as she stroked his cheek. He grabbed her hand and placed it to his lips, closing his eyes, wanting to hang on to her for as long as possible, "Jonas?"  
  
He opened his eyes, Dreylock stared back at him, her warm hand next to his lips; he let it go. She looked at him blankly, her body tingling, understanding that something had happened that she wasn't aware of.  
  
"The iris is open," Jonas said sadly, "we can go."  
  
He turned back toward the gate just as the doors began to slide open and a volley of weapon's fire shatter the silence.  
  
==============  
  
Sam ran into the gate room, "is it the Kelownan's?" She asked General Hammond.  
  
"Yes Major," he replied, slightly bemused.  
  
"Carter, how did." Colonel O'Neill began to ask.  
  
"Open the iris sir," she almost shouted, out of breath.  
  
"But Major we have no scheduled meeting with the Kelownan's and they are not answering our hails," the General explained.  
  
"It's Jonas, sir."  
  
O'Neill and Hammond exchanged looks, "Cassie told me," she clarified.  
  
"What in a dream?" Jack enquired, not convinced.  
  
"No sir, just now, in my office."  
  
The Colonel looked towards the door then at Hammond and shrugged, "are you sure Major?" The General asked.  
  
"Yes sir."  
  
Hammond nodded.  
  
=============  
  
Shots blazed all around them, whizzing through the air, sparking off the metallic equipment like tiny pockets of fire. Jonas and Dreylock defended their precarious position, trying to hold back the mixed tide of Jaffa and City Guards.  
  
Dreylock was pinned down behind a large control panel, nearer to the door while Jonas was closer to the DHD device and the activated gate. She weighed up their situation, her heart and mind, this time, set as one, she inhaled deeply, "Jonas make a run for the gate, I'll cover you," she shouted, zatting another nameless soldier.  
  
"But Ma'am I can't."  
  
She cut him short, there was very little time left, "that's an order," she cried with all the courage that spanned her backbone.  
  
Their eyes locked for a split second, a hundred and one things left unsaid and unfinished, "go," she whispered softly, "before my survival instinct kicks in again."  
  
Jonas nodded and ran for the gate. Dreylock stood up putting herself between Jonas and the barrage of bullets, using her body as a shield so he could escape.  
  
==========  
  
A figure dived through the event horizon, onto the metal gantry of the SGC, chased by an onslaught of bullets.  
  
"What the hell?" Jack shouted, throwing himself to the floor next to Sam.  
  
"Close the iris," General Hammond bellowed, above the small explosions of noise.  
  
Sam got to her feet as the metal screen twisted and blocked off the wormhole, "Jonas," she called out, moving to the still form.  
  
"Carter," Jack cried in warning, as he, too, began to stand.  
  
She knelt down beside the uniformed figure and turned him over, removing the black cap as she did, "hey hero," she said, gentle, "hell of an entrance," she touched the blistering heat of his forehead, her own brow frowning in concern.  
  
A smile lit up his eyes, "hey Sam," came the weak reply.  
  
"Are you hit?" She asked noticing the wound to his shoulder.  
  
"No," he whispered, almost in surprise, "rat bite." It sounded surreal.  
  
Sam looked up a Colonel O'Neill who was stood with them, the Colonel shrugged; nothing in the universe was ever straightforward.  
  
Jonas struggled to sit up, Carter laid a hand his shoulder, to restrain him, he swallowed tightly, "the First Minister?" He asked.  
  
Sam looked back at the gate, "Jonas you came through alone," she stated.  
  
The young man put his fingertips to the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, sorrow shadowing his face.  
  
Sergeant Davis walked over to General Hammond, "sir, the Kelownans, they're trying to contact us."  
  
The General nodded and knelt down beside Jonas, "son," he began.  
  
Jonas looked at him through weary eyes, he was worn-out, a fever was burning through every inch of his body, making him shake with infection, he just wanted to rest but he knew the SGC wanted answers. He tried to speak but his words fell as a mumbled mass of incoherent babble, frustrated he took Hammond's hand, clasping the eye around it. He pushed the last remnants of his energy into the older man, showing him small flashes of disjointed knowledge from his own memories, hoping the General would be able to make sense and understand the snippets of conversations and experiences he was sharing.  
  
Jonas closed his eyes, exhausted and let his hand fall away, "get Mr Quinn to the infirmary, now!" The General hollered at the medical staff who were standing by.  
  
"General?" Jack asked, pointing to the gate, "the Kelownans?"  
  
"They're no longer our allies, Colonel, not while they're planning to use Goa'uld technology to take over this base."  
  
"Goa'uld sir?" Sam raised with interest.  
  
"Yes, Major," Hammond massaged his temples, trying to erase the odd flicker of invading memory that still lingered.  
  
===========  
  
Ravel strode into the gate room, his gloved hands clasped firmly behind his back. He looked down at the dying form of Dreylock, knocking her body with the tip of his boot; she let out a small cry of anguish.  
  
He looked towards a sergeant who was standing over the First Minister, "Quinn?" He snapped.  
  
The man swallowed, "he, escaped through the gate, sir, to Earth, we've tried re-dialling, but they're not responding."  
  
Ravel's green eyes flashed with anger, "keep trying," he hissed.  
  
"I'm sure your new found ally will forgive your failure, Ravel," Dreylock mocked, choking on her own blood.  
  
The Commander drew his handgun and fired it three times into her head, venting his anger, he then looked up at the assembly of troops and smiled, "here lies Kelownan's First and now last Minister," he stated, before walking out the room.  
  
============  
  
No one ever dies in SCFI (sorry Drak) but it was only a short visit.. 


	8. The Potter And The Boy

Hi all, I know it's been a long time coming..  
  
Hope you had a good festive break and that the New Year brings a sprinkling of sunlight to you all.  
  
Disclaimer - I do not own, they are not mine, just this story, at this time.  
  
I've split this into two chapters 'cos I can.  
  
Thanks to CT for the betaing (I blame the workmen and the hammering, drilling, no heat and lots of dust for all mistakes) - my thanks goes out to whom ever invented the thermos flask!!!!  
  
Again I am most humbled by your reviews, a big thanks with caramelised sugar on top. :o)  
  
So on we go...  
  
===========  
  
The potter's long, brown, pliable, fingers worked the clay, breathing shape and form into the piece of earth before him. He feels his way around the vessel, his small, sightless, eyes staring into some distant memory while he talks to his creation, chronicling its conception and instructing it of its purpose. His face shows the map of his years spent toiling in this barren landscape, which devours a man's bones as quick as a puff of air disperses his footprints in the sand.  
  
A small, dark, boy, full of hunger works the wheel, sensing the man's needs, watching his deft fingers mould and bestow meaning to the clay, feeding off his expertise as he would a loaf of bread, knowing one day his, blunt, immature, fingers will fashion great works. The heat is intense as the sun steals the shade from an inadequate canopy flicking in the deserts breeze but still they labour, when they should be resting, a dire urgency imprinted on both their faces.  
  
The man stops, wiping the perspiration from his glistening forehead and rests a hand on the boy's shoulder. In the distance a figure approaches, distorted by the ghosts of the rising heat. The boy gets to his feet and hands the old man a pigskin full of water, letting him drink first while he heads into the, small, sand brick, dwelling they share.  
  
The old man's bones groan, as he gets to his feet, as the emaciated leather of his skin stretches across each skeletal protrusion. He listens to the desert wind, as it burns his face, whispering images of the visitor that his dead eyes can no longer acknowledge. He turns his face back to where the boy hovers in the entrance of their abode drinking thirstily from the pigskin, "mezzomaiolica", he says in a dry voice that is gritted by age and location.  
  
The boy turns and produces a large bellied, earthen, pot and sets it down in the shade. He squats down, lifting the cork lid and begins to stir its contents, with a reed, as they await the messenger from their God.  
  
Jonas removed his hand from the dish and the image ebbed from his mind. He licked the non-existent grit of sand from his lips as he made a fist and then uncurled his fingers, watching the light dissolve from the symbol on his palm. He picked up the black leather glove, from the table in front of him, and put it back on to blind the eye.  
  
Daniel watched him closely, concern furrowing his face. It had been two weeks since Jonas had returned to Earth and although the medical team were amazed with his progress, from the infection, there was still deep kohl smudges under his eyes that told of restless nights and a lack of sleep.  
  
Doctor Jackson leaned back in the chair laying down the pen that he had been using to make notes from Jonas' narrative. He tapped his top lip with a fingertip, deep in thought and Jonas looked at him enthusiastically, making him seem even younger; Daniel smiled, "mezzomaiolica is a blue lead base glaze, used in Egypt during the fourth millennium", he looked down at the undecorated bowl, "and this dish is defiantly blue!"  
  
Jonas stood, stretching his limbs, "so maybe the settlement was Egyptian?" He offered.  
  
Daniel shook his head, rubbing his chin in consideration, "no, no I don't think so," he stated. "The layout of the ruins seems to suggest a more Central or South American civilisation," he sighed, "although who's to say that Egyptian slaves were not taken to serve some Mayan, Inca or Aztec Goa'uld 'God'"  
  
Jonas sat back down, weighing the possibility up for himself while focusing on the artefact that lay between the two men. He touched the bowl's rim with his index finger, moving it back and forth along the smooth edge, "there was also a feeling of, of," he searched for the right word, "um, 'sustenance' as if the piece would bring a great nourishment, not just for him and the boy, but for others."  
  
He removed his finger and took a sip of water from the glass on the desk, "and there was a significance in throwing the dish when the sun was at its highest", he looked across at Daniel, optimistically.  
  
"Many cultures worshiped the sun, in some form or another, maybe this dish was made for that purpose, to honour the sun in a special ritual?" Daniel replied, returning his hopeful gaze.  
  
Jonas shrugged his shoulders a little dejectedly, "I'm sorry, the vision wasn't that clear. I haven't really helped much?"  
  
Daniel closed the notebook and a smile crinkled his features, "Jonas you can't expect to have all the answers straight away. Your 'gift' isn't an exact science, you said so yourself that sometimes it's a collection of disjoint images and feelings. Stop pushing yourself so hard, we've got a lot more information to work on than we had this morning," he assured the younger man, before getting to his feet to put the bowl back on a shelf.  
  
Jonas took a deep breath, chewing his lip, "Doctor Jackson," Daniel turned and looked at him, he knew what was coming without any precognitive powers, Jonas smiled, "Daniel, your heading back to planet in a few days, to try and get more answers from the site."  
  
"Yes, Jonas but."  
  
"If I came with you."  
  
"Jonas, you've only just gotten over a bout of Rat Bite Fever, 'technically', you're meant to be resting," Jackson reminded him, fighting against the appeal in the Kelownan's eyes.  
  
"But the planet's abandoned," he petitioned again, "you're going back with at team of archaeologists to excavate the settlement, to see if you can find answers as to why it was deserted and who lived there," Jonas argued animatedly, the excitement shining from his face.  
  
Daniel shook his head; this was one battle he wasn't sure he could win. It was true, he could really use Jonas' gift for observation as well as the Eye, for the whole location had literally been desolated and then abandoned by its former occupants. Dwellings had been burnt and levelled, great statues toppled and smashed until nothing but a broken plinth remained, text and images had been lost forever, gouged into silence by the strike of a chisel. In fact, the only artefact they had been able to retrieve was the bowl, buried and forgotten in the midst of this devastation by the desert and time.  
  
He looked up again into the younger man's face, seeing his own reflection in the anticipation and desire etched on the alien's eager but tired features. He sighed, thoughtfully, he was wary of Jonas' condition, of the turmoil the younger man was so desperately trying to hide from his friends but maybe this project would help him fight whatever demons his mind needed to exorcise.  
  
"Okay, okay," Daniel replied surrendering the palms of his hands, "I'll talk to Doctor Boord and General Hammond later."  
  
Jonas punched the air, "hey," Daniel warned, "they haven't said yes, yet."  
  
The Kelownan gave him an innocent smile as if he knew it was a sure thing.  
  
Daniel rested a hand on his shoulder, "and until a decision's been made," he continued, "I want you to get plenty of rest."  
  
"I have been."  
  
"Jonas, those heavy circles under your eyes kinda say that you haven't."  
  
Jonas looked away, Daniel continued holding onto his arm, "if you need to talk about 'anything' we're here for you, okay?"  
  
He nodded not meeting Doctor Jackson's gaze, Daniel released him.  
  
The klaxon sounded the gate activation; both men stared at each other, "General Carter?" Jonas enquired.  
  
Daniel nodded and headed for the door waiting a moment for Jonas to catch him up.  
  
The Kelownan limped towards him, "it's okay," he said with soft smile, "you go on, I've a few notes to pick-up beforehand, I'll meet you in the briefing room."  
  
Doctor Jackson gave him an acknowledging nodded and continued out the door.  
  
Jonas retrieved a pen from the desk drawer and placed it in his pocket, pausing a moment to looked at the bowl. He swallowed nervously, there was something hiding beneath the bowl's cold blue, glazed, exterior, something beckoning him, softly, with answers to questions that hadn't been asked yet. He had felt it the moment he'd set eyes on it, like it was enticing him to swim in its memory of the past and yet he knew, that, somehow it was the nucleus that would pull both the past and present together.  
  
He couldn't shake the feeling that this relic was a key to something more.  
  
=================== 


	9. S'hang

Disclaimer - as before  
  
Part 2  
  
=======  
  
Jacob Carter looked toward the assembled members of SG1 and General Hammond, to his right sat a solid, steel-eyed Jaffa who had been introduced as S'hang.  
  
Jacob focused on Jonas but it was Selmak's deep rasp that led the conversation, "we've pulled as much intelligence from our operatives as was safe to do so but, at this time, we are no closer to establishing the identity of the Goa'uld on Kelowna." He paused for a moment while Jacob took control, "Jonas are you quite sure that Anubis is dead?"  
  
"Quite sure," the Kelownan answered, without looking up from his notebook.  
  
Jacob looked around the table again, but it was O'Neill who directed a concern at the young alien, "it's just that we've had this thing before with Apophis, you think you've killed him and killed him good, I might add, then he pops up all bright eyed and slightly disfigured in a place that resembles hell."  
  
Jonas looked up at O'Neill, a petulant frown forming on his brow, "Jonas," Sam interjected, hesitating slightly, "Anubis successfully cloned himself once, who's to say that he didn't try again, maybe just cloning the symbiote?"  
  
The young man rubbed the back of his head and gave Sam a small smile, "he's dead, Sam," he said softly, he then looked confidently across at General Hammond, "I know that for a fact."  
  
The General nodded, "okay any other ideas? Could this Herak be acting on his own, to further his dead master's agenda?"  
  
"It is most unlikely, General Hammond, Jaffa are trained from infancy to serve the Goa'uld as Gods," Teal'c reasoned.  
  
"But you rebelled, Teal'c," Daniel prompted.  
  
"That is correct, Daniel Jackson, but Herak is the type of Jaffa who will not question the way of things. As Anubis' First Prime, I believe he would have taken his master's technical knowledge to serve another System Lord, one who was close to or allied with his master, to insure his own survival and usefulness."  
  
Daniel looked up, the hairs on the back of his neck tingling, "Osiris?"  
  
"That would be a logical guess," the Jaffa replied, taking the weight of his friend's stare.  
  
"Jacob?" O'Neill asked.  
  
The Tok'ra General sighed, "since Anubis' advancement and defeat there has been a reorganization in the System Lords hierarchy. Several lower ranking Goa'ulds have taken the opportunity to broaden their territories, while those of a higher rank, who bore the full force of Anubis' attacks and survived, have dropped off our intelligent radar."  
  
"Gone into hiding?" Daniel asked.  
  
Jacob nodded uneasily.  
  
"And is Osiris one of these to have just 'disappeared' off the radar?" O'Neill enquired, expanding his eyebrows at Sam.  
  
There was a slight pause, "yes Jack."  
  
"General Carter could not this System Lord be using the Kelownan situation to build a new army? By what Jonas Quinn has told us, they would have no shortage of Andari and Tiranian slaves to create a sizeable and powerful force."  
  
"That's our main concern Teal'c." Jacob looked towards O'Neill, "whoever it is, we have to believe that they also have Anubis' knowledge of the Ancients, from his First Prime and that's why we need to send an operative into Kelowna to gather what intelligence we can."  
  
Jonas looked up, "when do you want me to go back?" He asked without hesitation.  
  
General Hammond returned the young man's gaze, "son, we need someone who can infiltrate the Jaffa ranks, someone who is trained for this type of assignment, that's why General Carter has brought S'hang to this briefing."  
  
S'hang bowed his head slightly.  
  
Jonas shifted his weight in his chair, "but General, I know the customs, the towns, the people."  
  
"And they know you, Jonas," O'Neill cut in with authority, "you're the poster boy for Kelownan traitors. I bet ya every City Guard and Jaffa knows your face and probably has orders to shoot on sight. You would just hinder any mission."  
  
The reality of Jack's words cut through him; making his shoulders fall slightly and concede their truth. Sam touched his arm and looked towards her father.  
  
Jacob gave her a slight smile, "we still need you to brief S'hang on as much as you can, Jonas, obviously your knowledge would be valuable to the success of this mission."  
  
"I would also like a map of the underground passageways you used to reach the stargate," S'hang asked, his voice deep and Shakespearian, matching the broadness of his chest.  
  
Jonas let his forehead crease, "why?"  
  
Jacob looked towards General Hammond to pick up the young man's question, "Jonas," Hammond began, almost fatherly, "this pact between Kelowna's new government and the Goa'uld is a potentially dangerous alliance, not only in regards to building an army but the threat it would impose to other worlds as well as Earth. It maybe necessary for S'hang to destroy the Kelownan gate."  
  
"Necessary?" Jonas bit back, reading the General far to clearly.  
  
Hammond moved uneasily in his chair, "son, I've had my orders from the President."  
  
Jonas' eyes darted round the table, despairingly, but his words were calm, "General you're asking me to betray my planet's potential, to prevent future generations from experiencing the wonders and advancements that gate exploration can bring."  
  
Daniel understood the dilemma, after all, Jonas was still a scientist at heart, "couldn't we just disable the gate," he offered.  
  
"No, Daniel," Jack exclaimed, "we can't just disable the gate because the Goa'uld will just mend it again."  
  
"Jonas Quinn," Teal'c said gently, "destroying the gate will help save countless lives and protect many planets, if you believe you are betraying your planet's future you would be doing it for the right reasons."  
  
Jonas gave a small surrendering smile and looked at his friend, then beyond them all, "it's, it's just sometimes the wrong things are done for all the right reasons," he said quietly, thinking of the Andari massacre.  
  
He sighed and removed the ring from his finger turning it in his hand, "what about the resistance, Chufa and General Wolf?" He looked up.  
  
"S'hang will try to contact them," Jacob began, "to see if we could aid them, technically, in their fight against the Goa'uld."  
  
"But not military?"  
  
"It may come to that," Hammond replied, "but we need to see how the land lies first."  
  
Jonas spun the ring with his mind, mesmerised by the whole circle it became on rotation. He then pushed it along to the table to S'hang, "you'll need this, it bears the symbol of The Coll, Wolf will recognise it."  
  
The Jaffa picked it up and tried to fit it on one of his large fingers, "it would be best to keep it out of sight," Jonas explained, "it's probably an outlawed symbol on my planet now."  
  
S'hang nodded an put it in his robe, "and a map of the passageways?" He asked.  
  
Jonas looked past the Jaffa, his eyes narrowing in thought, "Jonas?" General Hammond asked, seeing the alien deliberate and hoping he wouldn't have to make the request an order.  
  
Jonas rubbed his temples then looked around the table nervously, "the, the map's the easy part, General," he said with a tense laugh, his eyes resting on Daniel momentarily. "There are other dangers, in the catacombs," he continued, wiping his brow with jumpy fingertips, "secrets that the darkness buries."  
  
"It would help if you tell us, Jonas," Daniel prompted, watching the young man falter, trying to help him take the next step.  
  
The Kelownan looked uncomfortable and Jack gave him an encouraging smile, he'd never known Jonas to be so restrained when it came to offering information.  
  
"There are rats in the catacombs," he whispered, "lots of rats.."  
  
S'hang gave an arrogant snort, "a warrior is not afraid of such things."  
  
Teal'c touched his arm in caution, noticing the Kelownan's blank gaze and then looked toward O'Neill. Jack shrugged.  
  
Jonas continued, his voice shaky, "they're feeding off the bodies down there, a, a mountain of decaying carcasses of those slain during the coupe. I guess it saved digging a mass grave, putting them to rest in those dark, water filled tunnels," it was a rhetorical question but he looked around the table anyway.  
  
"Son," Hammond began but the young man was lost again in a flood of memory.  
  
"The mound was almost to the roof, body on body, but they didn't look real, even the bloated faces that looked familiar, people I'd spoken to that same day or passed in the corridors of the Parliamentary building, they looked, looked like grotesque, dispirited, manikins, disjointed and surplus to requirements," he gave a wry laugh.  
  
"Jonas, in times of conflict." O'Neill began, reaching back to his own experience.  
  
The young man turned to greet his gaze, "I know sir, people get killed, it happens every twenty years or so on my planet you'd of thought, we'd, I, be use to it by now," he turned away.  
  
"You never get use to it," Jack stated, "you just learn how to deal with it."  
  
They was a pause for a moment, then Jonas looked up, "that's, that's not the only horror that lurks in the shadows down there."  
  
S'hang, grey, eyes fixed on the Kelownan's conveying stare, watching them change to a milky white and feeling a coldness creep into the strength of his body.  
  
"There are apparitions that hide in the gloom, souls of those sent mad by Naquadria and left to perish in the lonely darkness of the catacombs. They are lost, between the spheres of existence and death and they feed off your fear by letting you experience the nightmare of their insanity. They will take over your body, your senses and plunge you into the night of their mind, reaping hungrily the fear you emit."  
  
Distorted voices filled S'hang psyche, looping around his inner being in an assault of frenzied images and thoughts. He leapt from his chair, burying his fingertips into the roots of his short, brown hair, trying to expel the terror and madness that was pushing its way through his rationality.  
  
Sam looked between the Jaffa and Kelownan, "Jonas, stop this!" She yelled, the concern evident in her voice as she noticed the trickle of blood oozing from the younger man's nose.  
  
O'Neill scrapped his chair back and pulled Jonas from his, shaking him as he did. S'hang fell to his knees as the lunacy that had haunted him dissolved into the gentle heartbeat of his own blood. Teal'c and Jacob went to his aid, "what the hell?" General Carter began, looking fiercely towards the Kelownan but it was S'hang who answered.  
  
"General please," the deep voice declared, "do not blame Jonas Quinn, it is I who should be reproached, he was just demonstrating the ignorance in my own overconfidence."  
  
He looked over to Jonas, whom Jack still had by the collar and bowed his head, "thank you for illustrating the danger to me," he bowed his head, "I will prepare myself."  
  
Jonas nodded and Jack let him go, straighten the younger man's collar with a Colonel sized glare.  
  
+++++++++++ 


	10. The Legend Of The Seven Years Famine

Hi guys, sorry it's been a while but I hope the wait was worth it (?)  
  
My Disclaimer still stands as previous  
  
This chapter is based on the translation of the hieroglyphics found on the Island of Sehel/Sahal. Just as a point of interest the inscription was not cut into the rock in the ordinary way, but was "stunned" on it with a blunted chisel and is, in some lights, quite invisible to anyone standing near the rock - hmmm  
  
==========  
  
The Legend Of The Seven Years' Famine  
  
The King looked out on his crumbling kingdom, the weight of government resting heavily on his troubled mind and enfeebled body.  
  
His people considered him a god, believing he possessed all the secrets of heaven and earth and yet his lands were decaying, his people were dying and the name of the disease was hunger and famine; no one was exempt.  
  
He sighed and signalled to his scribe as he began to dictate. "I am in misery on my throne. My heart is very sore because of the calamity which hath happened, for the Nile hath not come forth for seven years."  
  
He walked back to this throne and sat down with a sigh, as if a great weight was apparent on his shoulders. He stared at his discarded wig, left on the cool stone of the floor, as if it held the solution to his dilemma. He rubbed his baldhead in memory of its wear and bit down on the henna of his lips.  
  
"There is no grain, there are no vegetables, there is no food, and every man is robbing his neighbour. Men wish to walk, but they are unable to move; the young man drags along his limbs, the hearts of the aged are crushed with despair, their legs fail them, they sink to the ground, and they clutch their bodies with their hands in pain."  
  
He balled his own hand up into a fist, the elaborate lapis lazuli ring cutting into his olive flesh in anger, "the councillors are dumb," he struck the arms of the throne with his palms, getting to his feet, "and nothing but wind comes out of the granaries when they are opened. Everything is in a state of ruin."  
  
He walked over to the window again, watching the heat take the vigour from the deteriorating Nile as it trickled sluggishly through its dry and red cracked riverbed.  
  
He looked down and at the scribe who had paused and nodded for him to continue, "I ask these questions of you, my good servant, in hope they will bring our suffering to an end. Where is the Nile born? What god or goddess presides over it? And what is his form? Should I go to the temple of Thoth to enquire of that god? Or go to the College of the Magicians and search through the sacred books in order to find out these things?"  
  
He gestured that he had finished and the scribe brought the papyrus to him on bended knee. The King looked over each symbol as if they were inscribed using the blood from his body. He then motioned for his messenger to take the royal dispatch to the Governor of the temple properties, of the South and North, at Elephantine.  
  
+++++  
  
The moon's reflection was ghosting on the Nile's current when the ambitious Governor received this plea from his sovereign master. He looked out on the polished silver of the lazy river and smiled, he then made immediate travel arrangements to see the King.  
  
He journeyed through the night and by the time he entered the sovereign's palace a blistering dawn had afflicted the sky. He crossed the marble floor; his bare feet touching their reflection with each step and fell to his knees before the King, keeping his sly gaze low. The King lifted a gold, ringed, finger, gesturing for the Governor to speak.  
  
"My Lord, the Nile flood comes forth from the Island of Elephantine from two caverns which have been likened to two breasts, from which all good things pour forth; the name of this double cavern is the 'Couch of the Nile.' He who controls the door bolts of the flood is the god Khnemu, and the wings of the door open according to his wishes and once they are open he smotes the earth with his sandals and a great body of water rushes forth like a vigorous young man."  
  
He hesitated, as the King shifted on his throne, ready to plant the determined seed, which his true god had given him to nurture, into the Kings mind. "Khnemu's temple is also at Elephantine, although it is not as grand and well maintain as others in the region for Sept, Anquet, Hap, Shu, Keb, Nut, Osiris, Isis, Nephthys and Horus," he continued, 'innocently'.  
  
He lowered himself further to the ground and spoke with a boldness that came with knowing more than his lips would tell, "my Lord, the province is rich in many materials and precious stones, may I suggest that an offering be made of these resources to satisfy Khnemu and adorn his temple."  
  
The King sat back in thought and the Governor saw the age upon his face, "my heart is saddened that the creator god's temple has fallen into such disrepair, I will leave for his shrine and offer up sacrifices to placate Khnemu and pray for the Nile flood."  
  
The Governor smiled a secret smile.  
  
+++++  
  
The King removed his linen kilt and spread it before the priests of the temple who sprinkled it with the blessed waters of the Nile to purify the cloth. He cupped his hands before the holy men and a perfumed oil was poured into them so he could cleanse his flesh of the contaminates he had brought from the outside world.  
  
When this was done, he fastened the cloth around him and the priests pulled back the curtains to the shrine, allowing him access to their god. The King stood as a procession was formed and his offerings of bread-cakes, beer, geese and oxen, were brought before the golden likeness of Khnemu and prayers said in a low, resounding, hum.  
  
The Governor watched until all gifts had been presented and then spoke to the King, "my Lord, maybe if you alone make a supplication before the creator god as your words will carry more weight than us of mortal being."  
  
The King concurred and was left alone in the flickering torch light of the shrine.  
  
He knelt before the alter spreading his soul, beseechingly, before Khnemu, offering many prayers for his peoples' salvation. He heard a humming noise, from behind him and a sound not unlike several metallic bracelets clashing on a moving arm. He turned his head, slightly; aware he was by himself no more as an imposing shadow reached across the chamber floor, marking his body with its black form.  
  
He got, slowly, to his feet, following the path of the silhouette to its source, turning his body to greet the ram-headed god, Khnemu.  
  
The King felt his heart crash against his ribs as the tall, silver, god's eyes opened with a grind of metal and glow of light. The terrified man threw himself to the floor at the feet of this vast god.  
  
Khnemu bent his body towards the prostrated King and said in a cavernous voice that echoed from within him, "I am Khnemu, who made thee. My hands knitted together thy body and made it sound, and I gave thee thy heart," an armoured clad hand touched the King's back; the man shuddered at the coldness of the contact.  
  
The god continued, "I am he who created himself, I am the primeval watery abyss, I am the Nile who riseth at my will. I am the guide and director of all men, the Almighty, the father of the gods, Shu, the mighty possessor of the earth."  
  
"All these things are true, great god," the King replied, shakily, "but I must know if it is your will that the flood waters will once again bless our people?"  
  
Khnemu straighten himself up and walked across to the alter, distain peppering his words, "I am your Lord and creator and my temple is in ruins before you because your men are too inert to repair or rebuild."  
  
He paused for a moment as if in deliberation and then began again, "I will make the Nile swell for you, without there being a year of lack and exhaustion in the whole land, so the plants will flourish, bending under their fruit. The land of Egypt will begin to stir again, the shores will shine and wealth and well-being will dwell with them as it had been before. But I ask this of you, in payment for my generosity, you will rebuild these ruins and sculpt a great chapel in my name. I will bestow on you precious ores and crystals, ones that have not been worked upon before this day and your craftsmen will construct a monument as to my liking and specifications."  
  
The King agreed and in the shadows the Governor watched his master's plan unfold.  
  
==============  
  
Thanks for reading :o) 


	11. I Gave Thee Thy Heart

// Denotes vision\\ ========  
  
//The potter bows low in the desert sand next to the newly fashion dish that is drying in the merciless heat of the day. A bejewelled priest examines several glazed goblets, the potter had made earlier, checking each one, thoroughly, for the tiniest of flaws. The boy, ever curious, watches their visitor out of the corner of his eye, mesmerised by this man who seems to gleam spotless and white in the punishing red of the landscape. The priest stops for a moment and messes the boy's dark locks, with his hand, smiling through the malachite and galena that adorns his gracious eyes and protects them against the intense light of the sun. He then holds one of the vessels up by its stem, rotating it in the day's radiance and nodding respectfully at the craftsmanship of the piece as the rays shimmer off the glaze. He calls to a slave, who had accompanied him, and hands over the piece.  
  
The priest touches the old man's shoulder and bids him to rise, stepping back while the boy helps him to his feet. The priest presses his palms together, under his nose, and nods once more, signalling his approval of the potter's work.  
  
The slave comes forward and places a golden pendant around the old man's sinewy neck. The potter feels his way along the chain to the oblong piece that is suspended from the links. He touches the symbol engraved upon it surface and there are tears in his sightless eyes. He drapes his arm over the boy's shoulders to steady himself and the boy fingers the emblem too with a prayer on his lips.\\  
  
==============  
  
"Hey Carter what ya doing?"  
  
Sam pushed her safety glasses back onto her head and placed the testing equipment down, acknowledging Colonel O'Neill and Teal'c with a small, exasperated, sigh.  
  
"Sir, I'm trying to figure out this personal shield emitter that SG2 acquired," she replied, wondering if she should go into further detail.  
  
"Oh, that old 'do hickey', haven't you got it sussed yet?" O'Neill asked, toying, idly, with one of the miniature, fragile, components with his finger.  
  
"No Sir, I haven't," Sam countered, removing the piece, carefully, from her CO's reach.  
  
"You know what you need Carter?" Jack continued, leaning on one elbow across her workbench but looking towards Teal'c, "you need to take some time away from the SGC, clear your head, give the old brain cells a rest." He tapped his temple in emphasis.  
  
"Sir, I'm not going to accompany you on Daniel's expedition, I've too much work to do here," she said with a slight smile.  
  
"But Carter this mission was made for you, mysterious planet, sand, sun, lots of nerds and geeks digging holes with paint brushes and chop sticks and getting excited over tiny pieces of broken pottery."  
  
Sam smiled, again, "sir, my time would be better spent here, at the SGC, anyway there's no evidence that you'll find technology on the dig."  
  
"Oh but we might Carter, we might. Think of the excitement of excavating some strange alien 'do da' out of the sand," he looked up towards the ceiling in wonder, gesturing with his hand, "what is it? What was it used for?"  
  
"Sir, if that does happen Daniel will contact me."  
  
Jack surrendered, his face clouding with concern "okay, okay," he said whispering, looking over to the Jaffa once more, "you know I'm not asking for myself, it's for the big guy over there, he gets kinda 'tetchy' when you're not around."  
  
"Tetchy?" Sam enquired.  
  
"Yeah, you know, moan, moan, moan, moan, moan."  
  
"Sir," Sam said rolling her eyes, as Teal'c lifted a well-trained eyebrow.  
  
"Okay, if you want us to have all the fun."  
  
"Sam," Daniel came into the office reading an A4 piece of paper without looking up, "I've just come to give you the heads up that Jack might.."  
  
"Might what, Daniel?" O'Neill asked.  
  
Daniel looked up, "Ah, Jack, Teal'c," he said with an acknowledging smile, "might try and persuade you to, to come with us."  
  
Sam smirked with a shake of her head and then crossed her arms, "I guess I'm too late?" Daniel asked, looking from one to the other.  
  
"She refused our petition, Daniel Jackson," Teal'c informed him.  
  
"Yeah, it'll be 'way' too exciting for her," Jack said with his usual irony.  
  
"Doctor Jackson," Jonas ran into the room, breathing heavily.  
  
Sam sat down defeated, while Teal'c steadied the young alien from falling over in his excitement.  
  
"Jonas, shouldn't you be resting?" Jack said sternly, looking at his flushed face.  
  
The Kelownan caught his breath and held up his hands, "I know, I know, it's just I had another go at reading the bowl."  
  
Jack's forehead furrowed, "okay, I believe you were 'ordered' to rest, is there some communication problem here?" He looked toward Daniel.  
  
"I'm sorry, sir, I just wanted to have another go, before you gate to the planet."  
  
"Jonas, this morning you tried to fry S'hang's brain, which would have been a good thing if he'd been an enemy Jaffa but he wasn't, he was on our side. Hence, you being 'ordered' to stay in your room until the Doc can run some tests on you."  
  
Daniel watched the exchange, "Jonas, Jack's right, you really need to take it easy for a few days, especially if you want to join us, later, on the dig."  
  
"But I've found something, it, it could be useful," he cried impatiently.  
  
Daniel looked towards Jack, apologetically, who threw his hands up in the air, "oh for heaven's sake, go on Junior, spill the beans."  
  
Jonas' forehead creased momentarily as he tried to understand what beans needed spilling, "oh, the information," he replied, with an energetic smile and snatched the piece of paper Daniel had been holding and a pen from Sam's desk.  
  
He flipped the sheet over and began to draw, with bold strokes, the emblem he had seen on the pendant given to the old man, while explaining the vision he had just witnessed.  
  
Daniel took the sheet, when the younger man had finished, "a flat-horn ram, that's the symbol of Khnemu, one of the oldest Egyptian Gods," he handed the paper back to Jonas and looked around at the questioning faces of the team.  
  
"He, he was the creator-god whose cult centre was at the city of Elephantine. He was said to have made all men and their kai from clay and straw which he moulded on a great potter's wheel," he explained, his face folded in thought, "in fact another of his symbols is the wheel itself."  
  
Daniel's mind ball was definitely rolling, "he's also credited, on an inscription, on the Island of Shahal, with, with ending the Seven Year's Famine by making the Nile flood."  
  
"And this thrilling news means?" Jack asked looking from Daniel to Jonas.  
  
Daniel shrugged and sighed simultaneously, "I really don't know Jack. I'm sure the site we're excavating is more Central or South American than Egyptian, so I'm not sure how this all ties together."  
  
"And I have never heard of a System Lord by that name," Teal'c ventured.  
  
"But it doesn't mean that he doesn't exist?" Sam questioned.  
  
"Indeed," came the Jaffa's usual reply.  
  
"Well maybe Jonas' radar is off a bit?" Jack tried, raising an eyebrow towards the Kelownan.  
  
Jonas kept his eyes fixed on the drawing and gave a small shrug, "maybe," he whispered.  
  
"Could not the artefact have been made here, on earth, for this God Khnemu and then transported to the planet at another time?" Teal'c enquired, noticing the Kelownan's disappointment.  
  
"That's possible," Daniel answered, walking around Sam's office in thought, "maybe," he grasped, thinking out loud, "maybe for some reason, um, a System Lord came back to Earth to obtain further resources," he looked up.  
  
"Like a shopping trip?" O'Neill posed.  
  
Daniel shrugged again, "it's a possibility, Jack," he replied, ruling nothing out.  
  
"Is there any record of such an event in your archives?" Jonas asked, eagerly.  
  
"None that I can think of, Jonas," Doctor Jackson answered.  
  
"I could contact the Tok'ra, while you're off world, to see if they have anything," Sam suggested.  
  
Daniel nodded, "maybe the answers to this mystery will be found on the planet's surface Daniel Jackson," Teal'c ventured.  
  
"Well let's hope so," Jack said, "the suspense is killing me. See Carter you'd be missing out on all this fun."  
  
"Yes, sir, but I think I can handle it."  
  
"Jonas," Daniel looked up, "I've some books back in my office, on Khnemu, I'll sort them out for you before we leave."  
  
Jonas kept his head down as if in thought but Jack notice the angry splodges of red that had pooled on the paper, "holy crap," he cried exasperated, tearing the paper from the Kelownan's hand and lifting his head up to reveal the extent of the nose bleed.  
  
"No, Daniel," Jack continued, "no more books for Junior here. Teal'c?"  
  
"Yes O'Neill."  
  
"Take Jonas to the infirmary, get him a private room, with no distractions, hell rip the TV off the wall if it has one and get Hammond to assign someone to make sure he stays put until the Doc can run those tests on him!"  
  
Jonas went to say something but Jack cut him short with another Colonel size glare, "if he refuses, shoot him."  
  
The Jaffa nodded, a slight smirk crossing his lips and led the Kelownan out the room, who threw a pleading glance at both Daniel and Sam; Daniel and Sam exchanged looks.  
  
"What?" O'Neill enquired as Daniel left the room shaking his head and Sam stood up and put her glasses back on.  
  
===========  
  
Sam entered the gate room and O'Neill gave her a frustrated looked. Daniel was busy checking the other three archaeologists' equipment making sure their packs were secure. Teal'c was leant against the gantry rail in an effort to relax while behind him six cadets waited impatiently for the off.  
  
"Are we ready now Daniel?" Jack asked through gritted teeth.  
  
"I think so, Jack," Daniel retorted, giving his fellows the thumbs up which all three reciprocated.  
  
Jack looked up to the observation room and nodded to General Hammond, "okay General we're good to." He began just as a small trowel dropped onto the walkway with a metallic roll.  
  
"Sorry," one of the archaeologists said, throwing his over stuffed kit bag to the floor, "that was me, this time."  
  
The man fell to his knees and scooped the item up, holding it above his head so everyone could see he had, in fact, retrieved it, "it's my lucky trowel," he informed the room, "had it for twenty years now," he continued, ramming it into his bag.  
  
He got to his feet and pushed his wild, cloud dog hair under an ill-fitting cap, "I'm ready now Colonel Jack," he smiled, nodding to O'Neill.  
  
Jack looked to Hammond once more and saluted; the gate started to spin.  
  
"Have fun, sir," Sam called watching Jack's face shake with frustration.  
  
O'Neill gave an unconvincing smile, "you know I could still order you to come along," he stated clearly.  
  
Sam just gave him a smug look, which Jack returned with a roll of his eyes.  
  
The Stargate shot along the gantry then back in on itself in a spin of water like energy. The three archaeologists began to twitch excitedly to each other in a range of grating voices as they followed Daniel through the chevron ring. Jack looked back at Sam, with beseeching eyes, before passing though the gate; Carter just waved.  
  
As the Colonel disappeared, Hammond motion for the gate to shut down just as a small rush of power entered back into the room before vanishing.  
  
"Major?" The General asked from the observation room.  
  
Sam narrowed her eyes, "I don't know sir," she replied, heading up the stairs to join him.  
  
"Sergeant Davis contact Colonel O'Neill, immediately," Hammond ordered.  
  
Davis nodded, making the necessary connections, "O'Neill here," Jack's voice echoed around the room.  
  
"Colonel, is everything alright your end?" The General queried.  
  
"All present and correct, sir," came the static answer, "why?"  
  
"We had a slight power surge at this end sir," came Carter's reply.  
  
"Do you want to call off the mission, General?" O'Neill asked a little to eagerly.  
  
"No Colonel, not just yet, I'll get Major Carter to run a check on the gate before we use it again."  
  
"If you're sure General."  
  
"Yes Colonel I am," he added then with a slight smirk, "we wouldn't want you to get stuck out there."  
  
"Is that a possibility? Carter?"  
  
Sam answered from one of the control panels, tapping away at a keyboard, "everything looks fine here, sir, but I'll run a full diagnostic just to be on the safe side."  
  
"You do that Carter, O'Neill out."  
  
=======  
  
//The great Nile has flooded leaving behind a fertile fringe called 'the Black Land' which blossoms with growth and hope. Where once death reached a skeletal hand along the cramped narrow streets of the city, there is now life; even the rats have returned to feast hungrily on the scraps left by the sanguine merchants.  
  
The boy leads the potter through a maze of lavish market stores, while tradesmen shout their wares like a chant of redemption to the great sun disc. The potter stops for a moment and breaths in the many aromas blending with the heat of the morning, giving strength to this new day. He touches the boy's head and a smile smoothes the age from his face; the boy returns the old man's gesture knowing the sightless man can see the happiness in his soul.  
  
They wait under the shade of a tree, talking in gentle phrases of optimism until the potter falls into a restful sleep, exhausted by the journey to Elephantine. The boy stays by his mentor's side watching the city change with the day as the tree's shadow keeps time around them.  
  
The old man wakes, and stretches lazily under the canopy of lush green leaves. The boy tears off a portion from a flat loaf of bread, sweetened with dates, and offers it to him. The potter accepts the food and lets the boy guide his hand to a clay jar containing amber coloured beer made from barley.  
  
They sit there in content silence, listening to sounds echoing around the network of streets like a heartbeat pumping blood throughout the body.  
  
An official makes his way to their resting place, disturbing their moment of repose as he ushers them to their feet. The boy quickly wraps the uneaten loaf in muslin and drinks the last dregs of liquid from the jar. He helps the old man to his feet and the potter shows the bureaucrat the pendant he was given. The man nods, touching the emblem of Khnemu before turning it over in his hand to look at the symbols engraved on the back, "'I gave thee thy heart'", he repeats from memory. He nods once more and tells them both to follow him.\\  
  
Jonas awoke, fighting with the cotton sheets that bound him to the bed like a serpent's embrace. He sat up and flicked on the bedside lamp, blinking back the vision that was seeping through the pores of his mind. He looked down at his hand, as if it had offended him in some way and saw the last residue of light wither from the scar.  
  
He rubbed his forehead and swung his legs out of the bed and headed for the sink. He ran the tap and let the cold-water pool in his cupped hands before splashing his face to revive his dulled senses. He dried his face roughly with a towel, trying to comprehend the spool of images that had stolen into his slumber and where they had originated. He knew they were more than a dream or a restless night's sleep, it was as if he had connected with the bowl again, it was the same transferral of distant events where he was just a bystander, watching; but the bowl was still in the office.  
  
He stared at his reflection, in the shaving mirror over the sink, as if the answer lay somewhere in his face, as if it was written in the furrows on his forehead but it wasn't; it was behind him.  
  
Jonas turned back to the bedroom, his breath clouding in soft swirls as the temperature dropped. A shapeless glow of melting light churned and simmered by the doorway as it tried to take form. Jonas felt his heart crack like frozen ice at the anguish, pain and injustice radiating from this being who was trying to link with him. He steadied himself against the sink as he sensed the raw trauma burning through his emotions, baptising him with unspoken grief. He tried to reach out, to understand what the entity was trying to impart but it was fruitless task, there was just too much distress to get a connection.  
  
The light began to fade and Jonas felt the bond between them loosen as the entity weakened but, just before the light dispersed, its identity became apparent.  
  
The waning image of the potter stood in front of him, one arm outstretched in petition, the other hand spanning the cavity in his chest where his heart should have been.  
  
===========  
  
Thanks again, hope it's got you interested  
  
Take care 


	12. Diamond Dogs

I'm back....  
  
Just Sam and Jonas in this one and maybe a few answers and teasers..........  
  
Thanks for your patience, it's been a long journey and there is still a way to go yet.  
  
If you are interested (I know, I'm waffling) this story was drafted on the car journey back from Spain to Blighty, so thanks to DJ Sammy for keeping us going (I'll never be able to listen to that CD without images of sun, sand, sea, air con and toll booths).  
  
So, disclaimer still stands as before.  
  
Thanks to CT xxxxxxx  
  
Thanks to all those who have reviewed.  
  
In the year of the scavenger, season of the bitch  
  
Sashay on the board-walk, scurry to the ditch  
  
Just another future song, lonely little Keats  
  
There's gonna be sorrow, try and wake up tomorrow. Diamond Dogs - Bowie  
  
============  
  
Sam leant in the doorway watching Jonas work oblivious to her presence. She smiled warmly at the confusion of open textbooks and paper that was scattered across the broad desk, while Jonas scribbled studiously, looking from one bit of information to another. She tapped lightly on the doorframe, the Kelwonan looked up; she raised her eyebrows in question, "is this 'taking it easy'?"  
  
He gave her a puzzled frown and then smiled disarmingly, "I'm just getting a few notes together, to take to Doctor, um Daniel."  
  
He laid the pen down on the desk as she walked across and perched on the corner, "how did the psych test go?" She asked.  
  
Jonas relaxed back into the chair but crossed his arms, "I think I was Doctor Booard's first alien," he enlighten with a small smiled, "he was a bit nervous."  
  
"Yeah," Sam agreed, "I guess he gets a lot of people through his door claiming to be from another planet, it must be strange to actually interview one who is."  
  
The Kelownan nodded and collated a few sheets of paper together by gently tapping their sides with his fingertips, "he's with General Hammond now," he informed her, not making eye contact.  
  
"So it's still not a sure thing that you'll get to join Daniel and the team on the dig," she replied, looking down at his notes.  
  
Jonas shrugged, "I think it went well," he lied, but it was as transparent and fragile as rice paper.  
  
"Jonas..." She began.  
  
"Sam, can I run something by you?" He asked with soft pleading eyes that begged her to change the subject.  
  
She gave him a concerned smile and pulled up a chair, "okay, shoot."  
  
Jonas rolled his chair nearer the table and brought a few of the textbooks closer to hand. He made a mental check before picking up his pen and tapping it lightly on his open note pad. "Okay, okay," he said quietly to himself and looked up at Sam excitedly.  
  
"You checked with the Tok'ra to see if they had any references to Khnemu in their records?"  
  
It was a rhetorical question but Sam answered anyway with a nod of her head, "they drew a blank."  
  
"Okay, um, I've been working on Daniel's 'shopping trip theory'..."  
  
"Jonas the Tok'ra had no record of that either."  
  
"But we do," he continued, eagerly.  
  
Sam looked at him slightly astounded, "we do?"  
  
"Yes," he replied tapping an open book with his pen, "it's here in the Legend of Khnemu and seven years' famine."  
  
Sam looked doubtful and Jonas smiled, "just follow me on this," he implored.  
  
She smiled and nodded.  
  
"The inscription tells of a King of Egypt who went to Khnemu's temple to pray for the Nile to flood. There he was visited by Khnemu who promised the King that he would end the famine if he would provide the god with resources from the province and build a temple and shrines in his honour."  
  
"Jonas I don't see how this..."  
  
The Kelownan held up his hand and started to turn over the crisp pages of the book searching for a specific text, "I found this in the translation, it's Khnemu talking to the King, 'I bestow on you ores with precious stones since antiquity that were not worked before to build temples'", he quoted.  
  
"At first I thought it was just the god emphasising all that he had done for mankind as the passage starts with, 'I am Khnum, your creator, my arms are around you, to steady your body, to safeguard your limbs, blah, blah, blah."  
  
'Blah, blah, blah?" Sam repeated, oh that was so O'Neill.  
  
Jonas blushed but carried on breathlessly, "but then I got to thinking what if he was actually giving the King the materials to build the temple with, only it wasn't a temple he wanted built it was a mothership? Sam the 'precious stones' could be a reference to Goa'uld information crystals," he ventured. "You, you have to remember that the legend was chiselled into the rock many years after the event and with the understanding at the time."  
  
Sam shook her head, "I, I don't know Jonas, it's a bit of a leap."  
  
He took a deep breath, flicking over the page, quickly. He looked up at her and then down to the italic script on the page reading again from the translation. '"All fishermen and trappers and hunters on the water and lion catchers in the desert, I impose on them a duty of one tenth of their catch.  
  
'"All the peasants working their fields with their labourers and bringing wager to their new and high-lying lands, their harvest shall be stored in my granary.  
  
'"Moreover one tenth of the gold and ivory and the wood and minerals and every tree stem and all things which the Nubians of Khent-he-nefer bring to Egypt shall be handed over together with every man who comes with them.' Sam the whole inscription reads like a shopping list."  
  
"Okay say you're right, why go to all this bother? Why not just take the slaves you need?"  
  
"Maybe this Goa'uld had very few or no Jaffa, maybe he was looking to swell his army after a defeat. Egypt was in the grip of a famine, they were looking to the gods to save them and one god answered their prayers, Khnemu. In gratitude the people of Egypt gave his temple all that they could and his cult grew. What if he took his followers and all the goods they provided to the planet that they're excavating now, to start afresh?"  
  
Sam was still not convinced, "why did this Goa'uld pretend to be Khnemu, why not reveal who he really was?"  
  
Jonas smiled and nodded ready for the question, "Daniel believes that the ruins are South American so this Goa'uld would not be recognised by worshipping Egyptians and Khnemu is the god who, according to myth, controls the Nile flood. When the King went to the temple at Elephantine, to pray, all our guy had to do was to appear in Jaffa armour using a ram headed helmet."  
  
"And the flood?"  
  
"Tok'ra tunnelling crystals?" He offered back, with a satisfied look on his face.  
  
"Well it's a theory," Sam said, smiling at him.  
  
He continued to look down at his notes, "yeah," he said softly. "Perhaps that's why Khnemu is referred to, in some writings, as 'the governor of the two lands'".  
  
"But we still don't know who our guy is?" Sam asked.  
  
"I think that answer lies on the planet," he replied, holding her gaze.  
  
"It's not me you have to convince, Jonas," she countered, "its Doctor Booard and General Hammond."  
  
"Yeah," he said, turning away.  
  
"The psych test didn't go well, did it?" She pushed.  
  
Jonas shrugged, "he thinks I have 'issues'"  
  
"Issues?"  
  
He let out a sigh and rolled the pen backwards and forwards with the palm of his hand, "he thinks I push myself too hard and keep my real feelings, the real me, bottled up. I think his words were something along the lines of that I only reflect what I think people want me to be."  
  
"And you don't?" Sam asked smiling, placing her hand on his to stop him playing with the pen.  
  
He made eye contact and returned the smile, shaking his head, "nope, I'm an open book," he responded closing the text book on the desk.  
  
Sam laughed and stood up, "when did you last eat?"  
  
"I..."  
  
"Just as I thought, come on," she said, pulling him up, "its lasagne and I've asked the kitchen to cook some onion rings, especially for you, to go with it."  
  
"Sam I was going to..."  
  
"No, you were not," she 'commanded', "food time."  
  
Jonas went to say something, but Sam stopped him, "Jonas I'm your friend, I care about you, you need to rest for a bit, Doctor Booards right, you do push yourself to the limit as if you still have to prove your usefulness to everybody. I know it's in your nature, this enthusiasm and excitement for knowledge, you see things, answers, that most of us miss but between this and your gift you are going to burn yourself out, you're not a computer."  
  
The Kelownan looked down, "you're flesh and blood," she continued, "when was the last time you relaxed, did something recreational, laughed?"  
  
He pushed two fingers between his eyes trying to think, "I, um, lasagne you say?" He looked at her with childlike eyes.  
  
"Yeah," she smiled following him out the door, "oh you'll need a jacket, the heating's off in the commissary."  
  
"Again?"  
  
"Huh, huh. I think it's a cunning plan by the General to stop us spending too long in there," she replied throwing him the jacket that was hung over a chair.  
  
A small, black plastic canister fell out of one of the pockets, as Jonas caught the jacket, and rolled across the floor stopping a Sam's feet. She bent down and picked it up, observing the Kelownan writing on the side, "what's this?" She asked looking towards the alien.  
  
Jonas' face blanked in shock, "I, I, must have put it in there," he murmured, tapping the pocket, "I forgot, I forgot I had it, that, that Dreylock had given it to me." He ran his hand through his hair, obviously uncomfortable.  
  
Sam opened the lid, "micro fiche," she said, examining the contents. "Dreylock gave this to you? What's on it?"  
  
Jonas swallowed, "nothing much, just, um, just some personal reports."  
  
Sam narrowed her eyes, he was being evasive, "Jonas," she exclaimed.  
  
He shifted on his feet, like a child who had been caught out, "it's, it's the investigation into my sister's, mur..." His forehead creased, the word was still hard to say, "um, disappearance. With, with all that's been going on I forgot I had it," he shook his head in disbelief.  
  
Sam looked down at it, "so you haven't viewed this yet?"  
  
He shook his head, "no," he said quietly, "Sam, it's something I have, need to do. I need to understand."  
  
"But you've seen Mia, you know she's happy, you know she doesn't blame you, that it wasn't your fault?"  
  
Jonas looked down and Sam felt the blood drain from her body, "but you still blame yourself," she said softly, "do you think this is really going to give you some closure?"  
  
He shrugged and Sam put the container down on the desk. She sighed, there were a million and one things she could say, to try and deter him but she knew her words would be wasted.  
  
======  
  
Let me know what you think  
  
Cheers  
  
:0) 


	13. Bird House In Your Soul

Hi, next instalment  
  
I have a secret to tell  
  
From my electrical well  
  
It's a simple message and I'm leaving out the whistles and bells  
  
So the room must listen to me  
  
Filibuster vigilantly  
  
My name is blue canary one note* spelled l-i-t-e  
  
Bird House In Your Soul from They Might Be Giants  
  
==============  
  
General Hammond stopped both Sam and Jonas as they came out of commissary, "Sir," Sam acknowledged.  
  
"Major," Hammond replied, "would you give us a moment?"  
  
Sam nodded, patting Jonas reassuringly on the arm before leaving them alone.  
  
The General looked down at the mug of tea, Jonas was carrying, before he spoke, "how about we get some fresh air," he said, motioning to the lift.  
  
Jonas looked into the older man's face, trying to read between the lines of command that the years had entrenched on his features, but the General was giving nothing away. Jonas nodded and followed Hammond up to the surface.  
  
As they stepped out into the bronze of the autumnal courtyard the leaves were playing tag with the wind as it tried to tidy up after itself by sweeping pathways through the dry, organic, debris.  
  
General Hammond made his way to a derelict, wooden, out building that stood on the fringes of the compound, saluting to a maintenance crew working on a broken down truck as he passed.  
  
Jonas looked around the shed, ever curious, which was filled with rusting bits of machinery and old paint tins whose dried out colour decorated their sides in cracked spills. "Sit down, Mister Quinn," the General said softly, signalling to a dark wood bench.  
  
Jonas did as he was asked, placing his mug under the seat out of the way. Hammond took his place on a frayed and worn leather chair, "I come out here sometimes just to get a feel for things," the General enlightened, watching the service men mill around the courtyard, busy with their duties.  
  
The Kelownan kept his head down staring at the carpet of squashed cigarette ends and cigar butts that littered the dusty floor.  
  
The General swivelled his chair round to face the younger man, the mechanism winced at the movement, "son, Doctor Booard said he found you a little unresponsive to certain questions put to you at the psych test. He is of the opinion you're holding back something, something that has you all twisted up inside. He's worried that this is going to severely add to the physical and mental pressure that your, your gift already puts on your emotional state."  
  
He sighed, letting his words rest for a moment with the alien, "Jonas he's asked me to take you off active duty, for a while, until he's happy that this 'issue' has been resolved."  
  
The truck belched a thick plume of smoke from its exhaust much to the annoyance of the oil-smudged mechanic working under the hood. He let out a string of profanities that grabbed both men's attention for a short while. Jonas turned back and looked into the Texan's eyes, "General, please," he begged, "I couldn't sit around all day with my hands in my pockets, it, it would drive me insane!"  
  
"Then give me something, son," the General requested gently and Jonas realised he was cornered.  
  
He leant forward, clasping his hands together, wringing them as if they were wet, "it, it was no picnic going back to Kelowna," he said eventually, keeping his eyes fixed to the floor.  
  
"I was still viewed as a traitor by many, by most Kelowans, actually," he continued with a small sardonic laugh, "but the Tiranians and Andari would trust no one else to handle the negotiations and I, I trusted the First Minister and her plan, her dream for unification. It was our planet's only way forward, if we were all going to survive."  
  
Jonas looked at the General, his eyes full of pent up sentiment, "she went against all advise, to recall me, to have me by her side at the negotiating table, but it just showed the strength of her convictions, her belief in a united Langaria."  
  
He stood up and went over to the open doorway, leaning against the frame, looking out onto the compound, "but at what cost," he whispered to himself, shaking his head as if to ward off some inner demons.  
  
He turned back to Hammond, "as I said in my report, Ravel's Supremacist movement already had a tight grip on government and the ordinary people, especially those living on the boarders who had spent a life time defending their homes, their provinces against Tiranian or Andari attacks. The N- bomb and Anubis' first wave assault had done nothing to change the hatred in people's hearts but it had brought all sides together in an understanding, and Dreylock wanted to turn that understanding into co- operation."  
  
He seemed uncomfortable with the conversation and began to pace the out- building as if trying to shift some weight, "it, it could of worked," he said looking to the General for approval. "I think all parties, all three nations were ready to accept some sort of coalition if it, if it wasn't for Ravel spreading his poisonous ideals and, and the history of 'wrongs' each side was unable to put behind them."  
  
He sat back down, massaging his forehead, "that's why I was so ready to believe that he was behind..."  
  
Jonas stopped for a moment, lost in some inner war, "behind what, son?" Hammond pressed.  
  
The Kelownan looked up, "there was, was a massacre, of, of Andari refugees, families fleeing from their lands that had been poisoned by the bomb, " his vocal cords were tight with emotion. "We promised them a future, a home. We welcomed them to our bosom and called them brother only to slaughter them, when their backs were turned and slice them open so their entrails could freeze with the frost and snow."  
  
There was an anger in Jonas' voice, something General Hammond had never associated with the young man, "someone had planted a rumour, that the Andari, at the camp, were infested with Goa'uld lava and the ordinary Kelownans lapped it up, letting that hatred in their hearts stir their blood lust."  
  
He ran his fingers through the spikes of his hair trying to cleanse himself of blame as the resentment in his voice abated and an open sore of guilt cracked his words, "the City Guards just let them through. They just opened the gates and let the mob in. They could have stopped it, closed the compound, turned the mob away, but they had orders not to."  
  
"From Ravel?" The General asked.  
  
Jonas shook his head, "what mattered was that the Andari government thought the order had come from Ravel and that he had started the rumour."  
  
Hammond looked confused as he watched Jonas play with a cigar butt, squashing the tobacco out of its belly with the tip of his foot, "the Andari were just about to sign a peace agreement with Ravel and pull-out of the coalition negotiations."  
  
He looked up at the General, "needless to say, it didn't happen, not after the massacre," he sighed painfully, "it, it was Wolf who gave the order for the guards to stand down and it was he who started the rumour within the Supremacist movement."  
  
"But General Wolf was working with the First Minister, for unification," the older man stated.  
  
"Yes," Jonas said quietly.  
  
Hammond understood; Dreylock had used the massacre to stop her opponent from aligning himself with one of her 'allies' and to get them back to the negotiating table.  
  
"They trusted me," the Kelownan continued, his tone broken and anguished, "I sat round the table and sold them the idea that our peoples would have a joint future, that we would build better place to live where our children would not grow up hating their neighbours. They, they trusted me and I betrayed that faith."  
  
"Jonas you had no idea that Dreylock had planned this," the General raised.  
  
"I, I should have sensed it," he looked down a his gloved hand, "what use is, is this gift if it only works some of the time?"  
  
"I cannot answer that, son, but it wasn't your fault. I know you feel disillusioned, hurt, even deceive by your government again but you gotta let it go. You know that, no matter how much you dwell on it, the past cannot be changed, so use that energy to work on the future, change that for the better."  
  
Jonas wiped a hand over his face and slowly nodded, "yes sir," he said in almost a whisper.  
  
Hammond leant back in the chair, again, before he spoke, "Doctor Booard tells me you've been having a visitor in the night."  
  
He was rewarded with a slight smile, "the, the potter, sir, yes, a couple of nights ago."  
  
"Major Carter believes that your visitor could explain the energy surge we experienced after Doctor Jackson's team exited for the planet."  
  
"Really," there was a sparkle ignited in the Kelownan's eyes, Hammond smiled.  
  
"You've not seen him since?"  
  
"No, no, sir, only sensed him."  
  
"At night?"  
  
Jonas frowned, puzzled by the General's question, "um, sometimes."  
  
"Mister Quinn would you say a trip to the excavation site might give you a stronger link with this 'individual'?"  
  
Jonas nodded, "I believe so, sir."  
  
"And therefore give you, once that link has been established and questions answered, a peaceful night's sleep and the rest that Doctor Booard has requested?"  
  
Jonas smiled, "yes, sir."  
  
"Colonel O'Neill is returning at fifteen hundred hours to collect supplies, do you think you could be ready to join him?"  
  
The Kelownan nodded.  
  
"Good," Hammond stated with a nod of his head, "but Mister Quinn, when you return I want you to attend regular sessions with Doctor Booard. I want you to be able to talk to him, just as we have done today, is that understood?"  
  
"Yes sir."  
  
Jonas got to his feet in a rush of excitement, reaching down to retrieve the mug; the General gestured for him to go. He watched the young man hurry across the compound, narrowly missing running into a group of servicemen in his haste. He smiled and reached into his top pocket pulling out a hand rolled Havana.  
  
============  
  
Jonas quickly tided his notes up, in the office, and tucked them into his bag. He glanced around the compact workspace, checking that he had not forgotten anything; his eyes resting on the microfiche, he picked the container up.  
  
He held it tightly in is hand for a moment, letting the side of his balled fist tap against his lips in thought. He heard General Hammond's words again, 'you know that, no matter how much you dwell on it, the past cannot be changed, so use that energy to work on the future, change that for the better.'  
  
He opened a nearby drawer and put the canister gently inside before shutting it.  
  
When he had left the office an unseen presence went and opened the same drawer, lifting out the microfiche and replacing it, back, on the counter.  
  
===========  
  
Thanks for reading – let me know what you think.  
  
;o) 


	14. Tonalli

Disclaimer – Nope don't own  
  
Hi back again.  
  
I had a few problems downloading the last chapters as it did not appear on the list???  
  
I was wondering if someone, anyone, would just let me know the download was OK  
  
Thank you  
  
:o)  
  
=============  
  
"Well, here it is, mysterious planet," O'Neill said as he and Jonas exited the Stargate, "on your left, ladies and gentlemen, we have sand, to your right you can see even more sand and if you look ahead, yep, that's right, dunes upon dunes of sand."  
  
The Colonel watched the younger man's animated face and shook his head; only Jonas and Daniel could get this worked up over bucketfuls of sand. "Come on Junior, help me with this case, the dig's a few clicks east of here."  
  
Jonas bent down and gathered up the rope handle, his eyes darting around the landscape taking in as much as he could as he tried to match the Colonel's vast strides. Behind them, as the gate settled, a small drop of energy trickled out into the landscape and made soft footsteps that disappeared in the breeze.  
  
==========  
  
Jonas wandered around the excavation site without purpose. He watched the archaeology teams toil in the heat, reclaiming what the desert had seized and what man had try to hide under the rubble of buildings.  
  
They had already exposed a paved, public, plaza surrounded by the foundations of various structures, including the base of an enormous temple complex. He studied this, letting his mind amble on the gentle wind, trying to connect with the secrets of the past like water filtering through the cracked soil of a drought.  
  
He closed his eyes; there was something out there, just beyond the peripheral vision of his mind, something shadowy and blurred.  
  
He reached further, beads of perspiration clouding his forehead in concentration, as he tried to cut through the thick mist that encircled the echoes of the past. A receptive tendril, drawn to his open mind, crossed the eddying void to meet his probing, shrouding him in its emotive veil.  
  
It felt cold. The air was salty with wept tears. There was a murmur of animosity, a baleful undertone of contempt, a vortex of fear and despair all seething and threatening to overwhelm him in this one touch. He pushed it away, while he still had the strength to do so, before it consumed him with its intensity, letting it slip back into the sand and the sun-bleached lemon of the sky.  
  
He inhaled deeply and messed his hair with his fingertips, trying to expel the ice of feeling that the entity had left on his body and in his mind.  
  
He crouched down and ran his hand along the grey brickwork of a shallow ditch belonging to an irrigation system, focusing, trying to engage his mind elsewhere.  
  
"It must have allowed them to farm the dry land," Daniel said joining him.  
  
"Where did they get the water from?" The Kelownan asked, puzzled by the barren landscape.  
  
Daniel pointed, "there's a dried out river bed to the south of the city, they must have created a system of aqueducts to provide the fresh water."  
  
Jonas nodded and stood up, "glad to be out?" Daniel asked.  
  
The young alien gave him his best 'you bet ya smile,' "I just wish you'd let me do more," he stated, watching the others work.  
  
"You're still under doctor's orders to take it easy for a bit, let's not rush it okay?"  
  
Jonas put his hands in his pockets and gave a small shrug of agreement; it was Daniel's turn to smile. He moved a critical eye over the dig, jotting down some small detail on the site plan he was carrying and then looked back at the Kelownan.  
  
"Did you see the artefacts Doctor Lewis found yesterday?" He asked.  
  
"The small bronze statuettes of Ptah, Khnum and Re?" Jonas nodded, his interest pricked.  
  
"What did you make of them?" Daniel enquired, placing the pen back in his top pocket.  
  
The alien thought for a moment, turning back to the activity before him, "altar pieces. Probably brought from Egypt by one of the craftsmen. Small enough to fit in your hand, to carry around..."  
  
"And to conceal," Daniel offered, breaking through Jonas' train of thought. "When they were unearthed, yesterday, I thought they had just been discarded along with the debris from the site but the second team have just found some more. These were almost lovingly wrapped and seemed to have been hidden in a hand-dug crevice in the foundations of a dwelling," he explained.  
  
"And so far you've found no Mesoamerican deities?" The Kelownan asked.  
  
Daniel shook his head, "no, none at all, which seems rather odd," he drew a long breath, chewing on his theory, "seeing as this whole layout is Mesoamerican in origin."  
  
Jonas waited and smiled receptively, "Okay, I, I think there was a religious clash here," Daniel began, letting his idea take shape with the young alien. "That, that the Goa'uld who brought the Egyptians from Earth expected them to convert, to worship only him but, but the links with their old gods were just too strong." He pushed his glasses back on his nose and waited for Jonas to respond.  
  
"So they worshipped in secret," the Kelownan supported, letting his mind work on the suggestion, "until, until they had enough courage or, or manpower to rise up and defeat the false god," he looked at the Egyptologist.  
  
Daniel sighed, "it's been done before and would explain the condition we found this site in; it hasn't just been destroyed, it's been totally obliterated."  
  
Jonas thought back to the feeling of hatred that was lurking in the shadows, "like they wanted to eradicate everything to do with this Goa'uld, leave no trace," he offered, "that would make sense."  
  
Daniel raised his eyebrows, Jonas looked to the ground, "I, I felt it early, before you came across."  
  
"What?"  
  
"An undercurrent of, of, terror and loathing, and, and despair."  
  
Both men looked out towards the horizon, "it's all around us," Jonas continued, softly.  
  
Daniel nodded, he'd felt something too, every since he'd arrived, like the site was waiting for them so it could give up its secrets and its dead.  
  
Jonas looked back at him and said thoughtfully, "but where did all the people go? The ones who were left after the city was destroyed?"  
  
Jackson shrugged, "there always seems to be more questions than answers," he enlightened, "but here's one you can help with. We're trying to come up with a name for the city. So far I've got two suggestions," he sighed, "O'Neill's Ville, and Jack's Town any 'other' ideas?" He almost pleaded.  
  
Jonas stiffened, the Egyptologist's words echoed around him, biting into the air loudly before twisting in silence to the ground.  
  
"Jonas?" Daniel's anxious tone sounded muffled as he reached out and touched the Kelownan arm, "my God, you're, you're freezing," he observed in alarm.  
  
Jonas looked through him, hearing another voice in his head "Aztlan," he whispered in cool breath, from a time past.  
  
Daniel's eyes narrowed, "sorry?"  
  
The younger man blinked, as if he were awakening from sleep, "Aztlan," he repeated, his voice stronger.  
  
"Jonas, that's, that's the name of the Mexican tribe's mythical homeland. It's where the word Aztec is derived from."  
  
"I, I don't think it's a myth," the Kelownan indicated, shyly, looking around him and Daniel knew it was more than a suggestion.  
  
"Doctor Jackson," an excited voice cut through the thick wedge of heat and thought that circled the two men.  
  
Professor Ashton stood up, removing his hat to wipe the hard work from his forehead, unveiling his thinning head of feral, white, curls that made a spindly halo against the light. He gesticulated, as fervently as the conditions would allow, using his leather Fedora to make exaggerated half circles in the air.  
  
"Doctor Jackson," he puffed again, his determination starting to wilt in the climate.  
  
Daniel and Jonas moved quickly to the low stone platform, where the archaeologist was working, navigating past the other trenches in the newly unveiled plaza.  
  
"You were right," Aston puffed, looking up at them from shade of the hand- dug ditch, "these platforms were bases for altars."  
  
He moved back so they could get a better look, "we've just started to excavate this one," he tapped the stone, "and we've already found a mass of skull fragments."  
  
One of the cadets, who was working with the professor, held up as sealed plastic back containing several pieces of cranium.  
  
Ashton took a large gulp of water, "but that's not all," he said breathlessly, wiping his hand across his mouth, "I, I think this is only a top layer, that the skulls were 'displayed' intact and later damaged by the fall of rubble."  
  
"You think it's a mass sacrificial burial, like the one at Teopanzolco in Mexico?" Daniel asked.  
  
The professor nodded, "the fragments are getting larger the further we dig down," he replied, putting his hand to his back to massage it.  
  
Daniel careful entered the trench, to examine the evidence for himself, while Jonas looked on feeling an unease grasp his throat with tightening fingers. He swallowed, suddenly feeling drawn to a section of the temple still covered by the desert. He left the others to their discovery and moved slowly forward to stand in his own shadow where he was bid.  
  
"Jonas?" Daniel looked up to find the younger man gone.  
  
Puzzled, he looked round and found him standing across from the trench, "Jonas?" He tried again but the Kelownan was engrossed by something else.  
  
The potter stood before the alien just visible on rippling heat. He stretched out a transparent hand to touch Jonas' glove in an appeal for him to remove it; the Kelownan understood.  
  
"Jonas," Daniel was at his side, "what is it?"  
  
"The potter," the young man whispered, removing the glove.  
  
Daniel looked before him and saw nothing but he felt a crispness in the air that seemed to invade his skin and roam along his spine.  
  
The old Egyptian cast his sightless eyes down at the ground and spread his hands out, "tonalli", his ancient voice croaked.  
  
"Tonalli," Jonas repeated, methodically, following the old man's gaze.  
  
"Animating spirit," Daniel whispered, translating the word.  
  
The Aztec's had believed that the tonalli was located in the blood and that it collects in the heart when a person becomes frightened. They also believed that the continual offering of this spirit, through sacrifice, would ensure the perpetuation of the universe for without an ample supply the sun would halt in its orbit and all life would die.  
  
He turned back towards Jonas and noticed a soft breeze part the sand at the alien's feet, revealing an aperture in the stonework of the foundations. He crouched down to examine the opening, "there's, there's a chamber under here," he said looking up.  
  
Jonas remained fixed and Daniel could see the alien was shivering, "tonalli," he said again.  
  
Daniel suddenly noticed the sand around him become discoloured as something surged from under the surface. He got up and took a few steps back as the shadow grew, surrounding both men to converge on the breach in the foundations. A viscous, rust like liquid vomited out of the gap, spilling onto the ground, collecting sand in its swell.  
  
Daniel swallowed and looked at Jonas, "blood," he whispered, the word scraping his throat as it began to pool around his feet.  
  
Jonas looked down, barely breathing, watching the crimson tide lap over his boots, feeling the pitch of emotion that clung to the film of its skin.  
  
The potter's gauzy presence began to fade with exhaustion as he walked through the Kelownan. Daniel saw Jonas gasp and move his hand to his chest before falling to his knees in pain.  
  
The younger man looked down to where he clasped his uniform in anguish, seeing a large gash materialise over his heart. Daniel went to his aid, his boots sloshing heavy through the advancing mixture of blood and sand, his eyes fixed on the empty, heartless, slash.  
  
Jonas tried to stem the blood that was pumping from the open cavity but he was weakening with the effort. Chaotic voices blazed around his mind, their terror, their eternal suffering numbing his soul.  
  
Daniel fell to his knees, ready to cap the blood loss with his own hand, calling across the site for help. Their hands touched and the flicker of the past shattered, leaving them unharmed, kneeling on the golden sand.  
  
==============  
  
Thanks for stopping by. 


	15. Weetseelohpochtlee

Yeah, disclaimer the same  
  
This might help – Goa'uld pronunciation: Wee-tsee-loh-poch-tlee  
  
// Denotes Vision  
  
---------------------------  
  
// The boy swallows, his eyes wide and hungry for the images before him as he tightly grips his master's hand. He speaks softly, his words painting a picture in the old man's mind of the many diverse and stimulating sights this new world offers. The landscape seems abundantly green and fertile, with a variety of flourishing crops that ripple against breeze sent by the desert that surrounds them.  
  
They move briskly with the others who have journeyed through the stars, the others who have been chosen by Khnemu.  
  
The natives watch them guardedly. Women clutch their plump babies to their breasts, whispering in a strange language that seems to knot the tongue with its speed. The boy looks on, fascinated by the depth of colour of the women's attire from their sleeveless tops to the wealth of contrasting designs that decorate their wraparound skirts.  
  
A small girl, no older than the boy, steps forward and cautiously offers him a small red fruit that somehow seems to bleed against the green of the surroundings. He takes it, warily, but smiles a thank you. The girl laughs and then picks another from the vine biting into it reassuringly. She looks shyly, at the boy, under her luxurious lashes, waiting for him to do the same. He mirrors her action, the tiny seeds from the fruit dripping down his chin, as he samples the mix of sweet and savoury flavour.  
  
He smiles again and the girl shakes the raven's wing of hair that falls unbound down her back, unlike the older women who bind theirs in cotton scarves. Daringly she takes the potter's other hand and walks with them, her head held high in confidence, pointing at different objects and naming them in her foreign tongue.  
  
Men stop from their daily chores watching the new arrivals depart from the mothership. Some are dressed as brightly as the women with muted gold hanging from their ears and feathers in the thickness of their blue, black hair. The boy suddenly feels under dressed and insignificant. He grasps the bag he is carrying closer to his chest, trying to find some comfort.  
  
The potter stops and touches the boy's cheek, feeling his anxiety. He takes off the gold pendant, from around his neck, and places it on the boy, smiling.  
  
"Khnemu will protect us," he tells him, "do not fear, for has he not chosen us to serve him and brought us to this new and opulent land. These are his people too, they will not harm us, for they serve him also."  
  
The boy nods and wipes away a tear. The girl, who has been watching the exchange, moves toward the boy and touches the Khnemu emblem. Both of them look down at it for a moment, linked by the pendant before a soldier ushers them forward. They join hands with the old man again and follow the throng towards a great, terraced stepped, pyramid.  
  
They pass under the supports of a vast wooden deity dressed as a warrior. The boy stops and raises his head, to take in the immensity of the image from the serpents that surround the statue's feet to the helmet of bird's feathers, spread like the rays of the sun, on its head. The face has been carved hard and cruel with the lower half painted blue and the upper half, around the eyes, black, making its warlike expression even more menacing. The deity's eyes have been cut from large amber gemstones and glare when they catch the sun. The boy shudders.  
  
The girl rests her hand on his arm and then touches the idol's base with her small palm. She meets the boy's eyes, "Huitzilopochtli", she says, pointing to the deity and then to the sun, before motioning to the pyramid.  
  
She places two fingers to the middle of her forehead and indicates to one of the soldiers, "Huitzilopochtli", she repeats.  
  
The boy follows her gaze. The soldier's brow is tattooed, in blue, with the symbol of a bird that also matches the image on his shield.  
  
She then gathers the pendant around his neck and points to the ram headed god pressed into the gold and then to the idol once more.  
  
"Huitzilopochtli?" The boy whispers in confused understanding.  
  
The girl nods. //  
  
================= 


	16. Sugarcoated Lips

Ah, another chapter :o)  
  
===========================  
  
Jonas awoke, his eyes focusing, for a moment, on the perforated light of the stars through the canvass of the tent. He breathed deeply and sat up, letting his surroundings comfort him as the awareness returned to his mind, pushing the residue murmur of the vision into the night.  
  
He felt drained, his body numb but there seemed no time for rest. He took a drink from the canteen at his bedside and unzipped the sleeping bag, switching on the battery-operated lamp that fizzled in the darkness. He unscrewed the top of a bottle of tablets and popped one into his mouth, swallowing it with another mouthful of water. Rubbing his eyes, Jonas pressed the palm of his hand against his forehead, hoping to smooth away the ache that was pulsating through his head.  
  
Again he breathed in, his sense of smell now absorbing the vivid aroma coming from the barbeque, that the Colonel had brought with the supplies, making his stomach turn with hunger.  
  
He reached for his padded jacket as the coolness of the night bit into the exposed skin on his arms and put on his boots, remembering to firmly tap the sole, first, to expel any unwanted critters.  
  
He stretched his leg out and massaged around knee, feeling the sharp twinge that had accompanied him ever since his fight with Ragnarok. He tried to stand but his weight sent claw like tremors around his kneecap causing him to sit back down. He stayed there, a while, working the joint with his hand and mind, trying to exorcize the parasite of pain into a dull ache.  
  
It was always worse after a vision.  
  
======  
  
He saw a light on in the 'command' tent and steadily walked towards it finding only Doctor Jackson there, bent over a laptop in concentration. Daniel looked up, "hey," he said with friendly eyes, "how ya feeling?"  
  
The Kelownan's lips twitched slightly as he slouched into a chair, "rough," he said holding his head at an angle.  
  
Daniel looked into the younger man's blood shot eyes and smiled reaching for a coffee pot that was nestled on a warmer. "All the comforts of home," he remarked, offering Jonas a chipped green mug.  
  
The alien took it gratefully, embracing the mug in his hands more for comfort than warmth. He took a large sip, his body and mind welcoming the rush of caffeine as he eyed up the pyramid of doughnuts next to the Egyptologist.  
  
"Hungry?" Daniel asked, pushing the plate his way.  
  
"Yeah," Jonas responded taking a sizeable bite of one, which left him with sugar-coated lips.  
  
"I, I, had another vision," he said calmly, battling with the jam that was oozing from the dough, "have you ever heard of a Goa'uld called," he thought about the pronunciation, "wee-tsee-loh-poch'-tlee."  
  
"Huitzilopochtli?" Daniel repeated, shaking his head, "no, nothing on a Goa'uld using that name. I've only ever come across him in the Aztec texts," he tapped the screen, "he was their god of war and of the sun."  
  
He looked at Jonas with knotted eyebrows, "is that who took the Egyptians from Earth and brought them here?"  
  
Jonas nodded and began to describe his vision. Daniel listened patiently, nodding now and again whilst taking illegible notes. When he had finished Jonas swallowed the last remnants of the doughnut and licked the crystallised sweetness from each finger before promptly taking another.  
  
Daniel leant back for a moment, fingertips 'churched' together in thought, eyes wide, looking at nothing in particular. Jonas sensed him lay all the pieces of information together, trying to understand how each link fitted in the scheme of what they knew as fact. His attention went to the laptop again as he navigated the keys to display what he need.  
  
Jonas pulled his chair closer to the screen and both men strained to see the faint text in the dim, artificial light.  
  
Daniel skimmed the content, his words falling quickly, "The name Huitzilopochtli comes from the words huitzilin, 'hummingbird' and opochtli, 'left', meaning, 'Humming-bird to the left.' The reason for this is that the god wore the feathers of the humming-bird, or colibri, on his left leg."  
  
Jonas nodded, "the symbol on the Jaffa's forehead and, and on the shield was that of a humming bird."  
  
Daniel scribbled something on his notepad and began to read again. "The explanation of Huitzilopochtli's origin is a little deeper than this," he frowned, placing his index finger to the screen as if feeling for enlightenment. "Among the, um, American tribes, especially those of the northern continent, the serpent is regarded with the deepest veneration as the symbol of wisdom and magic and from these comes a success in battle. A serpent also typifies the lightning, the symbol of the divine spear and the apotheosis of warlike might. So the images of Huitzilopochtli also depict him surrounded by serpents, with a snake sceptre and a great drum made of serpent-skin."  
  
They both looked at each other, "there were serpents all around the base of the idol," Jonas began, thinking back to the vision, "and, and one held in his hand, elevated outward and above the rest as if it were far more superior."  
  
"Now that sounds like a Goa'uld," Daniel offered with a flick of his forehead.  
  
"Yeah," the Kelownan agreed finishing his second doughnut.  
  
Daniel smiled and continued, skipping a few paragraphs, "um, for the Aztecs, warfare had a much different goal than for most of their counterparts. The goal of the battles was not to destroy the enemy and ransack the village but to capture the community and integrate them into the Aztec society, thus providing a much more productive and expanding kingdom."  
  
"As was done here," Jonas voiced.  
  
Daniel nodded, "the temples of these cities were burned and the worship of Huitzilopochtli installed. Warfare was also used to capture victims for ceremonial use. Prisoners of war were sacrificed on huge alters in front of large crowds. The heart of the victim was cut out, symbolically offered to the gods, and the lifeless body rolled down the long stairs, staining the steps with blood. Um nice," he commented, adjusting his glasses.  
  
"As the sun god," Jonas continued, reading from the screen, "Huitzilopochtli was thought to require human hearts and blood for nourishment on his journey through the sky."  
  
Both men fell silent, thinking back to the river of blood that had surge from the chamber hidden in the foundations of the temple.  
  
"Did, did you enter the chamber?" Jonas asked, a chill stroking his bones.  
  
Daniel nodded.  
  
"And?" The Kelownan asked, his eyes not leaving the screen.  
  
"It, it was just a basic room with no writings or symbols you'd usually associate with a Goa'uld."  
  
"Could it of been trashed like the rest of the site?"  
  
"No," Daniel sighed, "there was no evidence of that. The room still contained a brazier and, and a stone slab..."  
  
"An alter?" Jonas asked.  
  
Jackson nodded, "both were still intact," he looked away.  
  
Jonas' eyes narrowed as if trying to burrow into his mind, "there's something else?" He perceived.  
  
Daniel looked at him, "there were also handprints covering the walls and the ceiling."  
  
"Handprints?"  
  
"Each one seems to be different. I've sent a sample back to the lab, to confirm, but I'm sure they are..."  
  
"Blood," Jonas finished off.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
Both men sat in silence, again, listening to the hum of the laptop. Jonas turned to Daniel, "I have to go down there," he said.  
  
"I know," Daniel agreed, gently, "but not tonight, tomorrow and, and only for a short time."  
  
Jonas nodded and Daniel stood up, "we need to ask Teal'c if he's heard of this Goa'uld first," he offered with a smile, which the alien returned.  
  
Jonas popped another doughnut into his pocket and topped up his coffee before following Daniel out into the gloved night.  
  
=====  
  
O'Neill was coveting his barbeque, arranging the meat that was angrily spitting back at him, "hi kids," he said as they approached.  
  
"Hey Jack," Daniel answered, "where's Teal'c?"  
  
"Oh, just doing the rounds, should be back soon, though." He looked at Jonas, "how ya feeling Junior?"  
  
Jonas indicated he was okay and reached into his pocket for the doughnut. Jack eyed him suspiciously and Daniel saw a glimmer of concern cross the Colonel's face. "He's fine Jack, a little rough around the edges, maybe, after this morning, but he seems okay."  
  
O'Neill watched the Kelownan out of the corner of his eye whilst turning a piece of steak. "Hey Junior wanna try an O'Neill hotdog?"  
  
Jonas put the half eaten cake back into his pocket and limped dutifully across to where the Colonel was standing, wiping his hands, self- consciously, on his jacket.  
  
Jack handed him the dog, "how's the old war wound, there?" Jack inquired, pointing to the alien's leg with a pair of tongs.  
  
"A, a little stiff," Jonas concurred, tapping his thigh in emphasis while giving the Colonel a broad smile.  
  
"It's these cold nights," Jack agreed, seeing passed the grin.  
  
Jonas nodded, spooning a thick layer of onions onto his food from a dish, "yes," he said quietly.  
  
"There's ketchup, mustard or mayonnaise over here," Daniel said, cutting through their conversation.  
  
Jonas went over to the portable picnic table and began to coat his hotdog with all three sauces.  
  
Jack made a face, "Jeez, no wonder you have visions," he muttered, looking toward Daniel as Jonas bit, hungrily, into it.  
  
The Egyptologist smiled and sat down close to where O'Neill was standing, "what da ya want Teal'c for?" The Colonel asked.  
  
"We think we may know the name of the Goa'uld who occupied this planet," Daniel answered, taking a canteen of water from a cool box, "Jonas had another vision."  
  
"No kidding?" The Colonel ventured, watching the Kelownan devour the last piece of his hotdog, "want another?" He invited.  
  
Jonas nodded, "so what's our boy's name?" Jack enquired, shovelling the last two 'dogs into a bun before giving it to the Kelownan.  
  
"Huitzilopochtli," Jonas answered trying to cram as many onions as he could into the left over space.  
  
"Now that's a mouthful," Jack replied, placing the piece of steak on a plate and sitting down.  
  
"What is O'Neill?" Teal'c asked, joining them.  
  
"Ah T, how are the natives?"  
  
Teal'c raised a disapproving eyebrow, his face showing an endurance, "they are archaeologists," he said with a slight growl, "no offence Daniel Jackson."  
  
"None taken," Daniel acknowledged, holding up a hand.  
  
"They are playing some sort of game that requires copious amounts of alcohol and a fluffy duck," the Jaffa continued.  
  
"That's fuzzy," Jack countered, eating, then looking at the confused faces around him, "you know, fuzzy duck, ducky fuzz."  
  
"I, I don't get it," Jonas responded looking, hopefully, at the Colonel.  
  
Jack grimaced, changing the conversation quickly, "so T every heard of a snakehead called..." he looked towards Daniel.  
  
"Huitzilopochtli," the Egyptologist finished.  
  
The Jaffa placed his staff weapon against an empty chair and sat down, watching Jonas plaster the various sauces onto his food again. "Indeed I have," he replied, engrossed.  
  
"And?"  
  
Teal'c turned towards O'Neill and made a dismayed face, to which the Colonel gestured an understanding, "he was defeated by Apophis many centuries ago and has not been heard from since."  
  
"Oh," Jack acknowledged, looking at the others, "we were sorta hoping for the longer version, there, T."  
  
Teal'c bowed his head, "many of the System Lords believed him to be barbaric," he added.  
  
"Barbaric, really, a Goa'uld?" Jack looked towards Daniel.  
  
"Yes," Teal'c continued, "it is said that he ate the hearts of those he defeated in battle, to gain their strength."  
  
"Tonalli," Jonas whispered into the night.  
  
Daniel looked at him and then asked the Jaffa, "you said Apophis defeated him but he didn't kill him?"  
  
"That is correct, Huitzilopochtli escaped Apophis' attack by changing his host and then fleeing with a handful of his followers."  
  
"He swapped bodies?" Jack posed, looking slightly confused.  
  
Teal'c nodded, "he used this ploy to give himself time to escape for it was thought, at first, when the original host's body was found, that he had been slain with his Jaffa."  
  
"Clever," the Colonel added.  
  
The Jaffa acknowledged this, "most Goa'ulds have an escape plan formulated for times of trouble," he informed them.  
  
"So he would have already had this planet in mind?"  
  
Teal'c nodded, "that is correct Daniel Jackson and he would have placed supplies here in readiness."  
  
"And picked up whatever else he need back on Earth," Jonas injected, finishing his hotdog and cupping his hands around the mug of coffee.  
  
"It would seem so," the Jaffa concluded.  
  
"But that still doesn't answer the question of what happen here," Daniel reflected, swirling the water in his canteen around.  
  
"Maybe we'll find out tomorrow," the young alien added, taking the half eaten doughnut from his pocket.  
  
"Tomorrow?" Jack asked, puzzled.  
  
The Kelownan looked towards Daniel for guidance, "Jonas and myself are going down into the chamber."  
  
"Do you guys really think that's a good idea after what happen this morning?" O'Neill countered.  
  
"Jack..."  
  
"Hell Daniel, even in this half light and without a medical degree I can tell ol' Jonas there is completely fried."  
  
Jonas felt all eyes on him, "Colonel..." He began.  
  
Jack shook his head, "I think it's too soon."  
  
"But we leave the day after tomorrow," Jonas argued, beginning to rise. Teal'c rested a hand on his shoulder.  
  
"Then we come back, Jonas, another day."  
  
"Jack," Daniel reasoned, "I, I don't think we have a choice. Jonas is somehow linked to this site. I think whatever happened this morning would continue to happen, here or at the SGC, until we get to the bottom of this connection."  
  
Jack stood up, his back towards the group, deliberating. "Colonel," Jonas began, "at least this way I would have some control," he chewed his lip.  
  
O'Neill looked back towards Daniel and reluctantly nodded.  
  
============  
  
;o) 


	17. Sacrifice

Denotes vision/memory  
  
A big thank you to CT for your help with this chapter.  
  
This is for all you guys who have stayed with this story – hope you like this.  
  
Oh, slight warning – a bit on the gruesome side, blood and stuff...  
  
=======

Despite of the heat that was spreading across the land above, the vault remained cool and unfriendly. Teal'c stood near the entrance, his legs just visible at the top of the steps that descended into the gloom and pessimism. O'Neill sat halfway down, eyes straining in the torchlight; alert against the intuition that was crushing his backbone.  
  
Jonas stood almost central, every breath drawing on the variegated shades of suffering and torment that echoed, unseen, in every fissure. His memory skated back to the catacombs, to the darkness and harsh sentiment that was contained there, as he tried to get some perspective, some understanding on the splinters of emotions that fractured the tomb like air.  
  
He uncurled his hand and the eye blinked spontaneously. The handprints on each wall reanimated, stretching inside the stone like it was the rubber of a balloon. Jonas watched them reach, their scope, limited to where fate had consigned them for eternity, their epitaph, their mausoleum.  
  
"Jonas?" Daniel asked concerned.  
  
The Kelownan looked between O'Neill and Daniel and gave a laconic smile. Jack noticed the trepidation pooled in the young man's eyes, the sheen of fear on his skin. "You don't have to do this," he offered.  
  
Jonas hesitated, looking to the light from the entrance above, wanting to bathe in its lustre. He turned back to the room, listening to the silent prayer each handprint was rendering. "Yes, yes I do," he answered, needing to hear his own words.  
  
He turned to Daniel, "you won't need those," he said, gesturing to the notepad and pencil the Egyptologist held.  
  
Daniel looked puzzled, "I,I think I can take you with me, the link in here is so strong," Jonas explained.  
  
He nodded and took the Kelownan's outstretched hand.  
  
==============  
  
Huitzilopochtli stood in the chamber, his painted face washed in the light from the brazier that was burning against the darkness, discolouring the blue and black hues that masked his features.  
  
Daniel could make out every detail of his form, from the plume of feathers that crowned his head to the detailed, gold, circles that encompassed his ankles.  
  
"Wow," he said under his breath, at the enormity of what he was witnessing hit him.  
  
Huitzilopochtli cocked his head slightly as if listening to the shadows of which Jonas and Daniel were a part.  
  
"Can he hear us?" The Egyptologist asked, turning to the Kelownan.  
  
Jonas met his gaze, eyes clouded and unresponsive, "no," he whispered from far away, "you are just an observer in what has gone before. These are images from the past."  
  
He flinched, "Jonas?" Daniel cried.  
  
"Fear," the younger man responded, putting his free hand to his chest where the impression of dread was building.  
  
Four Jaffa marched crudely down the steps, one of them half dragging a man in their wake.  
  
The Goa'uld turned to meet them, his eyes flashing in the gloom, "good," he said, the rasp of his voice grating against the walls of the chamber.  
  
"Kneel before your god," one of the Jaffa said, pushing the man to the floor.  
  
"He is not my god. He is a false god," the man retorted, bravely, looking into the flaming stare.  
  
Huitzilopochtli cupped the man's determined chin with his thumb and forefinger, "who is your true god?" He asked.  
  
"We found these on him, my lord," the Jaffa said, handing him several, roughly carved, small statues.  
  
"Isis, Osiris and Ra," the Goa'uld laughed, crushing the effigies in his grasp, "and you think these are going to save you?" He hurled them into the fire.  
  
"They will come," the man countered, "even now the uprising is gaining strength. We have defeated the Jaffa who guard the Chappa'ai, soon our true gods will come and rescue us and destroy you!"  
  
Huitzilopochtli smiled, "ah, that may be so, my friend, they have tried before, but it'll be a little too late for you."  
  
He gestured to the four Jaffa who took a limb each and spread-eagled the man on the convex stone alter that stood portentously in the middle of the room.  
  
Daniel moved forward, on impulse, but Jonas gripped his hand tightly, "you can do nothing," he said.  
  
"You mean we just have to watch?" It was a stupid question; he knew the answer before speaking the words.  
  
The Kelownan nodded, "and experience," he whispered forlornly.  
  
"How, how do you handle this?"  
  
Jonas looked at him, the emotion in the room trembling through is body, "knowledge has a price," he said, plainly.  
  
Huitzilopochtli hovered over his victim, his one hand tenderly following the sternum, touching the man's pulse through his skin. He closed his eyes, connecting with the living beat, letting it vibrate through the velvet pads of each of his fingertips. He moaned softly, bonding with the throb of blood, allowing the vigour, the vitality to stimulate his senses. His breathing quickened with pleasure, his mouth drooled as he removed his hand to unsheathe the ornately carved obsidian knife that he wore on his hip.  
  
He gripped its decorative shaft with both hands, raising it above his victim, "I am not human," he proclaimed, his voice tight with desire, "I am divine. I am implacable. I uphold the order of the world, demanding your sacrifice. You cannot refuse it. You are only repaying the god who created you."  
  
He made an incision below the rib cage, mesmerised by the provocative dance of blood that stained the man's flesh in tempting ribbons of scarlet. The man struggled against the score of the knife, crying out in pain and distress but was held fast by the Jaffa.  
  
Huitzilopochtli's practiced hand penetrated the ragged opening, reaching into and pulling the pounding heart aloft, feeling its last vibrations in his grasp.  
  
"Leave me," he ordered the Jaffa, not taking his eyes from the bloody mass, "and dispose of that traitor."  
  
They gathered up the man's empty body and carried it up the steps, stopping to imprint his hand on the wall using his own blood.  
  
Huitzilopochtli took the heart and placed it in a simple glazed bowl, which he put on the brazier, it sizzled against the heat.  
  
His First Prime entered the room carrying a bowl of warm water in his hands and several garments over his arm.  
  
He knelt before his master and the Goa'uld took the dish from him and set it down on the alter.  
  
"Ah Tenochca, how goes the revolution," he asked, an ironic glint in his voice.  
  
"Your Jaffa fight bravely," Tenochca replied.  
  
"But I am afraid to no avail," the Goa'uld sighed, removing his ceremonial attire.  
  
"They are outnumbered, that is true, my Lord, but they are well trained and take many to the grave with them."  
  
Huitzilopochtli held up his hand in acknowledgement and began to wash the hue from his face and body, turning his back on Jonas and Daniel. He slowly moved the water over his skin, cleansing and exploring the dancer like persona that he inhabited.  
  
"Your new body pleases you, my lord?" Tenochca asked.  
  
The Goa'uld stretched an arm out in front of him, viewing its structure, "I am satisfied with it, you did well on your choice."  
  
He rubbed his face in the water, "you have placed my old host in the temple?"  
  
"Yes, where all can see."  
  
"Good and the cargo ship is ready?"  
  
Tenochca nodded, "we have taken as many as we could safely carry as well as supplies." He hesitated, "I, I have been asked, by a few, as to where we are bound, my Lord."  
  
Huitzilopochtli's turned to the prostrate man, anger flaring in his voice, "and what have you told them, these 'few'?"  
  
"That I do not know," Tenochca replied weakly, trying to deflect his master's rage.  
  
The Goa'uld nodded and continued to wipe his face in a cloth, streaking it blue, black.  
  
"You may tell them that we head for the mother planet, Earth."  
  
Huitzilopochtli wrapped a drab garment around himself and stood over his First Prime, his face obscured in the shadow, his eyes matching the firelight.  
  
"I have entrusted you with a great task, Tenochca," he expressed, his voice echoing round the chamber above the leisurely cooking of the heart in its own blood. "You will lead my people and avenge my name by usurping all those who worship false gods until I am the only deity on their lips when they kneel to pray."  
  
"This I will do, my Lord," Tenochca acknowledged, "but it will be difficult without your presence to guide us."  
  
"There are others, out there, who need my salvation," he replied with a quick glance to the dish on top of the brazier, "but know that I am always with you, in spirit," he expressed.  
  
"I will send to you a sign, an eagle perched on a large cactus. This great bird will hold a serpent in its mouth and when you see this omen, know that I am pleased with your progress and that this will be your final resting place. Build me a great city there and I will return to you again."  
  
The noise of fighting interrupted Huitzilopochtli's sermon, "they come closer," Tenochca voiced.  
  
"Let them have their hollow victory, for when we leave this planet's orbit, I will obliterate all that I have given them so that nothing remains," he turned back to the dish and lifted it from the heat, "go, I will join you soon."  
  
Tenochca bowed his head and hurried up the steps.  
  
Daniel felt Jonas' grip tighten in his own, "Jonas?" He questioned.  
  
Huitzilopochtli turned towards where the two men stood and cocked his head to one side. He held out his hand, his fingertips stretched out like antenna, reaching into the far shadows of the chamber. He closed his eyes, in concentration, and Jonas felt the darkness of the Goa'uld's essence extend into the present to touch his heart.  
  
Huitzilopochtli smiled as he sensed the potency of each rhythmic beat and moved closer to the source. He opened his eyes, his face now apparent in the glow from the burner. Jonas felt his own heart stop, in shock, as the Goa'uld whispered his name, "Jonas."  
  
Daniel felt the past and present connect in some psychic link and then everything imploded around him in a conduit of energy. His breath split from his body and he found himself spiralling in a vortex of images that scored his eyes, making them well with tears.  
  
He blinked back the soreness and found he was no longer in the chamber but outside amid a mixed group of people. The scenery was different, he was on the edge of a city, a modern city and around him the citizens were celebrating a festival with a variety of market stalls, colourful dances and dragon balloons. Above him, catching the breeze like a kite, a vivid banner was strewn across the street welcoming all to the Kelowna Harvest Fair.  
  
Daniel looked down at the hand he was still holding and found that it belonged to a child. The boy turned and looked at him, his face anxious and stained with tears; it was Jonas.  
  
Daniel realised this was no longer a vision; he was now a passenger in Jonas' past.  
  
He went to speak but the words that tumbled from his mouth, dissolved into the scenery, making no sense.  
  
The backdrop changed, in a misty swirl and the joyful crowd disappeared. The odd balloon floated passed accompanied by pieces of discarded litter that had stumbled down this secluded back street of cloud and shadow and destruction.  
  
He heard Jonas fight for breath, panic rattling through his small frame as he surveyed the derelict waste ground, searching for something in the misery.  
  
Drunks leant against the rubble of buildings, some sleeping off the vapours of alcohol, others talking to their invisible demons. A dog, with only three legs, balanced its skeletal frame as it rummaged, hungrily, through mounds of trash, snarling and foaming at the slightest movement or noise. Women, with vacant eyes and forgotten bodies waited in the shade to satisfy carnal lust for the price of a cheap meal.  
  
"Jonas," a small, anguished, voice cried, like a ray of light in the desolation.  
  
Daniel looked above him, up a flight of neglected stone steps and saw the frightened face of Mia.  
  
Jonas' small legs took the steps two at a time, racing to confront the man who had abducted his sister.  
  
The man stopped and turned round. Jonas froze, unable to act, staring into the stranger's mesmerising face. The man stretched out his free hand and placed it across Jonas' sternum, feeling the race of the boy's small heart through his fingertips. He closed his eyes and licked his lips and then smiled.  
  
"Jonas," he repeated, in a thick accent and cocked his head to one side.  
  
Jonas made a lunge for his sister but the stranger stopped him and pushed him back down the steps.  
  
Daniel looked into the abductor's face just as everything disappeared in thousand pinpricks of light. It was Huitzilopochtli.   
  
============


	18. Afterburn

Well here's another one up for your perusal.  
  
Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, for all your warm reviews big smiley face  
  
Not got long to go now......  
  
Disclaimer: Nope still don't own, just the story below is mine, mine, all mine manic laughter  
  
============== =  
  
Daniel felt the daylight burn his vision as he exited his tent. He'd had a rough night, connecting with Jonas, with the past, had left his mind feeling totally drained and his body, shaken. He rubbed his face, ironing out the creases of a fretful sleep that had brought no rest.  
  
He put on his sunglasses, to block out the sharp, citrus glare of the sun and surveyed the confusion of the camp; everyone was packing, ready to leave.  
  
He refilled his canteen and took a greedy sip trying to loosen his tongue that was 'Velcroed' to the roof of his mouth. He poured a small amount over his head and pushed back his hair before resealing the cap. A shadow joined his own, he glanced over his shoulder, "hey Jack," he said, attempting not to sound too fragile as he put his hat firmly on his head.  
  
"Daniel," O'Neill replied in greeting, "how ya feeling?"  
  
The Egyptologist squinted at him through his dark glasses, "a little rough," he revealed, noticing how Jack chewed the inside of his jaw and how he avoided eye contact.  
  
"I bet," he responded, taking a sip from his own canteen, "we should be ready to leave in about a hour's time, if that fits in with your schedule?"  
  
His voice sounded annoyed, the words spoken almost methodically, "Jack," Daniel stressed, "what happen yesterday couldn't have been avoided..."  
  
"Save it Danny, it took you almost an hour to come round after you two 'blew' apart in that chamber down there and Jonas stopped breathing for a time. Hell, Teal'c and I had to take it in turns watching him throughout the night, God knows what nightmares he battled." He shook his head and sighed, looking at the other man, "we should have waited."  
  
"For what, Jack? We're hardly in control of any of this."  
  
"I don't know, a medical team, maybe, to monitor you both, for Jonas to get a good nights rest? I just don't think it was worth it, okay, putting both your lives at risk."  
  
Daniel smiled slightly, "it's nice to know you care, Jack."  
  
"Yeah, well, let's just say I want SG1 to be a Russian free zone," he took another sip of water and gave Daniel a ghost of a smile.  
  
The Egyptologist scratched his head, "how's Jonas?" He asked.  
  
Jack nodded over to a lone figure sat upon a sand dune, looking aimlessly at the dig site, "a little better than you, on the outside, by the looks."  
  
"Has he said anything?"  
  
"Nope, not a word. I think he's avoiding me."  
  
"I'll go and take him a drink," Daniel replied, replenishing the water in the canteen.  
  
"And tell him we're gone in an hour," Jack called after him.  
  
Daniel walked to where the Kelownan was perched, the desert breeze chasing his footsteps in the loose sand. He stretched out his aching leg muscles and looked down at Jonas, who was drawing non-descript hieroglyphs with a stick. The alien looked up, under the subtle shade of a baseball cap, and Daniel offered him the canteen.  
  
"Thanks," he whispered, his voice horse.  
  
Daniel rested a hand on his hip and looked out over the desert, "how you feeling?"  
  
Jonas shrugged and took a drink, "okay, I guess," he moved the stick over the ground, again, without really focusing on what he was doing.  
  
Daniel sat down next to him and the Kelownan handed him back the canteen and dropped the stick, relaxing back on his hands. "Sorry," he said softly.  
  
"For what?" The Egyptologist asked, a frown settling on his brow, while he placed the water between them.  
  
"For putting you through all that 'after vision' stuff," Jonas narrowed his eyes against the sun to look at Daniel, "I didn't think about all the harm it could do, I guess I'm kinda use to it."  
  
He sat forward nervously wiping his hands together to scatter the grains sand, "Jonas," Daniel emphasised, "I'm fine, apart for the headache and the nausea of course," he smiled, "I wouldn't have missed what you showed me for the world, it was truly amazing."  
  
"Wanna swap?" The alien said lightly taking another swig of water.  
  
"Hey, I got thrown out of the ascendancy club because I couldn't handle it, remember? That would hardly make me a good candidate for 'vision boy'."  
  
Jonas arched his eyebrows, "vision boy? Cute." He murmured, shaking his head with a smirk on his lips.  
  
Daniel smiled, burying the tip of his boot in the sand, Jonas looked over his shoulder back to the camp, "is, is the Colonel still mad?" His voice sounded anxious.  
  
"Mad?" Daniel turned away, another willowy smile curving at his lips.  
  
"Yeah, you know, he gives off these intense, sort of, grey, red vibes, when he's," Jonas searched for the word, "um, pissed?"  
  
Jackson kicked his foot out in a fountain of sand, "I'd say prickly, more than mad," he informed the younger man.  
  
"Prickly," Jonas took a mental note, filing the word away, "is, is that 'good'?"  
  
"It's better than mad."  
  
The Kelownan nodded, Daniel felt him relax.  
  
They both sat there, staring into the distance, passing the canteen between them. "It looks so peaceful," Daniel reflected turning to Jonas.  
  
The Kelownan looked down at his hands and sighed, "Daniel," he began, struggling, "when we get back to the base," Jonas stopped and surveyed to landscape again, eyes narrowed against the light; Jackson waited.  
  
"Um, Dreylock, she gave me the, um, the report," Jonas rubbed his eyebrow with his index finger and turned to Daniel "on, on the investigation into my sister's, um, death." He swallowed, "I was wondering if, if when we get back to the base, you could...?"  
  
He looked away, Daniel touched his shoulder, "yeah sure, you've not looked at it yourself?"  
  
He shook his head, "no, there never seemed to be a right time."  
  
"Sure."  
  
They sat in silence again letting the breeze caress them with sand. Daniel took off his hat and wiped his brow looking at the expanding sun above and then turned his gaze to the Kelownan once more. "Jonas when we were in the chamber you said that the images we, we experienced were of what had gone before but the Goa'uld, Huitzilopochtli, he, he saw us, he knew we were there?"  
  
He alien frowned, "he sensed our presence but he didn't see us."  
  
"How is that possible?"  
  
Jonas picked up the stick and began to draw again in thought, "usually the visions are just flashes and feelings, you never get the whole story just pieces that have been left behind," he explained. "Here the link with the past is much stronger."  
  
"Because of Mia?"  
  
"I'm not sure," he massaged his temples. "On Kelowna, when I was in the catacombs, the visions I, I 'received' were much the same as here, extreme, passionate, sharp. The collective group of, of, 'beings', that were emitting these intense feelings, were caught up in the tunnels, down there, and didn't want to move on. They were happy to feed on the terror, the misery, the, the darkness that seemed to bleed from the streets above.  
  
"I feel, the same thing here, only," he hesitated, "only that the entities here are trapped and can't progress to a next level, like there is something blocking them. They're frustrated, restless, unable to communicate what they need because their anger runs too deep in their 'ka'."  
  
Jonas sighed, "I think that's what Huitzilopochtli sensed, tapped into, the portal, the link, that these lost 'souls' manifested for us to see into their past."  
  
"And he heard me speak your name," Daniel surmised.  
  
"Yeah," he said with a regretful laugh, "maybe that was just the fates entwining our destiny's."  
  
Jonas twisted the stick into the ground and wiped his hands together, "did they ever build it?"  
  
Daniel turned to the younger man, "huh?"  
  
"Sorry, the city, on Earth, the Aztecs?"  
  
"Yes in the Valley of Mexico. According to legend the city of Tenochtitlan, or "place of the Tenochcas" was built where the Aztec priests found an eagle poised on a cactus devouring a snake."  
  
Jonas smiled, "and was it the beginning of a great empire?"  
  
Daniel shook his head, "It might have been but then it was conquered by greed, religion and smallpox."  
  
"So Huitzilopochtli was left to wander the universe, in, in search of tonalli."  
  
"Yeah, it would seem so," the Egyptologist answered, regretfully.  
  
He stood up, even though his body protested, and dusted himself down, smiling at the Kelownan, "I've a few bits to gather together before we leave."  
  
"Do you need any help?" Jonas asked.  
  
"No, thanks," Jackson held up a hand, "you rest a little longer, it's a bit of a hike back to the gate."  
  
Jonas looked at him, "I'm okay, you know?"  
  
Daniel smiled, "yeah, I know but don't knock it, Jack will probably have us march double time back to the gate."  
  
The alien raised an eyebrow and smiled, shaking his head.  
  
==========  
  
"O'Neill, I have accompanied the cadets and archaeologists back through the gate," the Jaffa rested against his staff weapon, "the SGC are standing by for us to return."  
  
"Good, T, good," Jack responded, picking fluff from his own jacket, "didn't loose any on your way back?"  
  
"No, they went through relatively unharmed."  
  
"Relatively?"  
  
A small smile played on the Jaffa's lips, "yes, the alcohol they consumed last night did not aid them on their walk to the Stargate."  
  
The Colonel smiled slightly and looked at his watch, "well, that's the babysitting over with, let's gather up the rest of our team."  
  
He looked around, "have you seen Daniel?"  
  
"I believe he is getting some equipment from the site."  
  
"Right," O'Neill shielded his eyes with his hand and frowned; "now where do you think Junior's going?"  
  
Teal'c followed the Colonel's line of vision, a disquiet twitching on his intuition.  
  
Jonas had seen the young man out of the corner of his eye. His shadow had eclipsed him with its indifferent form, making him turn his attention to the youth's path. It was the boy; only time had stretched his body into early manhood with graceful manipulation.  
  
Curious, Jonas followed this apparition on its solemn journey, through the sand, feeling the mix of emotions that was emanating from this, now, self- assured being.  
  
The boy stopped at a shallow pit that had been dug in the supple ground and bowed his head over the fragile form that had been placed within the hollow. He looked around, to see if he was being observed, and then began to whisper soft words that stumbled, long forgotten, in his once native tongue. His voice held a melancholy in its tone and yet around the edges there was scorn buried in the melody of his veneration.  
  
Jonas moved closer to examine the scene. The dead body of the potter rested in the pit, eyes closed for eternity, a withered and matted hole cleaved with malice into his chest.  
  
The boy opened his hand and several small figurines fell into the grave, he looked at them scatter with contempt and then turned and walked back into the forgotten mists of time.  
  
Jonas watched the image pitch and swirl as the present's indentation became apparent, swathing him with an icy kiss. He screwed his eyes up and touched his forehead, feeling the symbol on his hand begin to tingle in apprehension. He massaged his palm, through the glove, his eyes suddenly drawn to the sand shifting and crumbling beneath his feet.  
  
"Oh crap," he cried as something grabbed his ankle and pulled him under the spongy surface.  
  
"What the..." O'Neill yelled as he saw Jonas abruptly disappear, "T!"  
  
Both he a Teal'c dashed across to the spot where the Kelownan had been standing and started to dig fervently with their hands.  
  
Jonas felt his heart race against this chest but he wasn't breathing, he could tell, he was somewhere in-between the realms of life and death. There were many down here, old dry bones, reaching with dusty fingers to touch him, to caress him with their misery, angst and suffering. Death had forgotten them; they were lost in an eternal vacuum unable to break free.  
  
They tried to speak, vexed murmurs echoed around his head but it was as if their lips were sewn together; they made no sense. He tried to reach out, to comprehend, but the sentiment was as meaningless as the sunken cavities that once contained eyes; they could not convey what he needed to know. Frustration turned to rage and Jonas found he was choking.  
  
Teal'c's hand brushed against something smooth and warm. He grabbed it and pulled, "O'Neill, here," he yelled.  
  
Jack seized what looked like Jonas' jacket and yanked it hard, pulling the struggling Kelownan between them as they fell back onto the ground.  
  
Jonas' gasped for air, fighting for each breath, his hands drawn to his throat trying to dislodge a skeletal hand that was clutching his windpipe. Teal'c reacted first, quickly releasing the ivory fingers that were obstructing the young man's airway and throwing the lifeless bones across the ground in revulsion.  
  
He looked to O'Neill who was clearing the suffocating sand from the Kelownan's face in a bid to help him breath regularly.  
  
Jonas coughed and then seized his chest, as he felt the familiar seep of blood soak through his fingers, "no, please," he cried in alarm, "I don't understand."  
  
He looked up at the Jaffa, who had placed his own hand over the wound that had appeared, "I don't understand," he whispered, before the voices, in his head, drowned out all reason.  
  
He fell back against the soft sand, his bloodied hand holding onto Teal'c's arm and began to recite, fiercely, in a voice not of his own. "Pay good heed, O righteous Judge, to the weighing in the Balance of the heart, whose word is truth, and place the heart in the seat of truth in the presence of the Great God."  
  
He seized Tealc's arm tighter as his body shook and then slipped into unconsciousness.  
  
============  
  
:o] 


	19. Home

Disclaimer – Don't own.  
  
A big thank you for all your wonderful reviews. Can I just say 'back at yer' because without your support and encouragement I would not have got this far, so thank you again.  
  
A/N:- Over a week ago I was given the most precious of gifts, so while this tiny, wee, person settles in with us I'm afraid I have to beg your patience with updating this story. I don't want to rush the ending - Pike  
  
Oh, Cassie appears in flashback.  
  
============  
  
General Hammond flicked over the paperwork he'd been reading and looked up at his flagship team. "The Doctor wishes to keep Mister Quinn in the Infirmary overnight for observation. Apparently there was no injury to his chest and no obvious physical damage. Tests also confirmed that the blood found on his shirt was not his own."  
  
Jack rested his arms on the briefing table, his reflection taking the same poise in the wooden veneer, "not his?" He repeated, puzzled, "then whose?"  
  
"I was hoping someone around this table would be able to answer that one, Colonel." Hammond looked, hopefully, along the line. Jack declined.  
  
"I believe it was that of one of the Egyptian souls whom Huitzilopochtli slaughtered," Teal'c answered firmly, "that the blood left was but an imprint from the past as it tried to communicate through Jonas Quinn."  
  
All eyes in the room focused on the Jaffa, "a voice from within Jonas recited an ancient verse from the Reu nu pert em hru before he became unconscious," he informed them patiently.  
  
Jack widened his eyes at Daniel, "the chapters of coming forth by day, we, we know it as the Egyptian Book of the Dead," Jackson explained, with a frown.  
  
"Indeed," Teal'c acknowledged, "the verse recounted was from 'the speech of the dweller in the embalmment chamber'. This is when a dead soul's heart is weighed against the feather of Truth to see if it may then continue onto a hallowed afterlife."  
  
Daniel agreed tapping the silver pen in his hand rhythmically on the table, "and it's the god Thoth who presides over this judgement, in the Hall of the Two Truths, questioning the deceased and weighing the heart."  
  
"Thoth..." Jack began.  
  
"The symbol Jonas Quinn carries on his left palm is the Utchat or Eye of Thoth, O'Neill," Teal'c clarified.  
  
Jack nodded, "right, of course," he looked towards Teal'c and Daniel slightly bewildered.  
  
Daniel took a deep breath, "Jack, the heart was the only organ that the Egyptians left intact because this is where they believed the essence of a person lived. By removing the heart and consuming it, Huitzilopochtli was condemning these Egyptians, in, in their eyes, to state of limbo for eternity, that's why the link with Jonas is so strong. I think, they believe, they need him to continue their journey through the afterlife."  
  
"To evaluate their, their 'essence'?" Jack asked, making quotes in the air with his fingers.  
  
Daniel shrugged, "that's my guess," he said, opening his palms.  
  
"But he can't give them back their hearts," Sam chipped in, leaning forward.  
  
"No, no but maybe Huitzilopochtli can," Jackson replied, chewing his lip.  
  
"Daniel?" Jack quizzed.  
  
The Egyptologist rubbed his fingers across his mouth in consideration before continuing, "as you know Jonas is in possession of the files relating to his sister's disappearance and subsequent murder."  
  
He coughed and took a sip of water from the glass in front of him, turning his notes over at the same time, "according to these records," he looked up, "Mia's death was the last of a spate of five killings, over a seven month period, on Kelowna."  
  
He paused, picking up his pen and moving it down his notes, "all the victims were missing their hearts."  
  
"Okay, so we've established that the son of a bitch was on Kelowna," O'Neill replied.  
  
Daniel held up a hand, "one, one of the investigator's noted a similarity between these deaths and a group some ten years perviously, during a time of conflict on the planet, when several civilians were found with their hearts missing from their bodies. At the time it, it was thought that it was a heinous act by advancing Tiranian troops..."  
  
"But you think it was Huitzilopochtli?" Sam finished off.  
  
Daniel nodded, "that, that got me thinking."  
  
"And?" Jack asked resting his chin between his thumb and forefinger.  
  
"My Grandfather use to tell me a story, when I was young, about the first battle of Ypres. It was after the British Expeditionary Force charged the Germans north of the Menin Road," he made a sweeping action with his hand. "He, he told me that, the morning after the Germans retreated, the English found, amongst the enemy dead, at least three soldiers with their hearts missing."  
  
"And was it just a story Doctor Jackson?" Hammond asked.  
  
"No General it wasn't. The report was buried, at the time, for morale reasons as the British didn't want to believe that one of their own was capable of such an act or for the Germans to use the incident for propaganda purposes; it has only, just recently, come to light."  
  
"So what are we saying here," Hammond invited, shaking his head concerned, "that Huitzilopochtli been gathering hearts on Earth as well?"  
  
Daniel swallowed, "according to the FBI database, there have been numerous unsolved murders, over the years, where the victim has had the heart removed, um, 'sacrificially'," he paused, "the, the most recent being two weeks ago."  
  
"Where?" Sam enquired.  
  
Daniel looked around the table, "Colorado Springs."  
  
"Coincidence?" Jack voiced, raising his eyebrows.  
  
"I doubt it Colonel," Hammond voiced, looking at his watch, "but let's make sure, shall we people? Major Carter, Doctor Jackson I want you to review the police investigation notes tomorrow, I'll make the necessary phone calls."  
  
He scrapped his chair back as he got up, not stopping to dismiss the team.  
  
==========  
  
An image of a young man sat behind the wheel of a car steadied itself in the viewing screen. A girl's voice giggled as she wrestled to hold the camera still, zooming in and out until she was satisfied with the framing.  
  
"Okay, okay, first time behind the wheel of a car, take one and action," she cried with delight.  
  
The young alien's smile lit up his face and the car's interior as he pulled his Ray Bans, that had been resting in the spikes of his hair, over his eyes, readying himself. His forehead creased in concentration as he pushed the 'stick', as instructed, into drive and hit the gas, clouding the wheels with dust as the car lurched forward on the deserted track.  
  
"Whoa," Cassie screamed, in a fit of laugher as the force pushed her back against the passenger door, filming the leather of the roof.  
  
"What?" Jonas enquired looking towards Cassie for some direction.  
  
"The road, Jonas," she said, trying to control her words, which were babbling hysterically between the snorts of glee, "watch the road, not me."  
  
"Oh," he said nodding at her and smiling, "oh," he cried in realisation, turning his head back towards windscreen, pressing his nose closer to the glass, which brought more unladylike chuckling from his passenger.  
  
"Relax, just try and relax. Sit back in the driver's seat, look as if you're enjoying it."  
  
"I am, I am," he replied clutching the steering wheel with white knuckles.  
  
Jonas looked up from the view screen of the camcorder and pressed the stop button. He sighed, an inward smile spreading across his heart with a mix of tears as his emotions fought against each. He rubbed his eyes and placed the camera down on the bedside table.  
  
Teal'c entered the Infirmary carrying a large tray of various foodstuffs; Jonas sat up in greeting, "hey."  
  
The Jaffa acknowledged him with a nod, "I thought you might be hungry Jonas Quinn."  
  
The Kelownan gave him a lopsided smile, "am I awake?" He said in jest.  
  
Teal'c gave him a glimmer of a smile and place the tray on the bed for Jonas to examine, taking a handful of grapes.  
  
"Daniel tells me that Huitzilopochtli could be, here, in Colorado Springs," Jonas said, opening one of the small portions of butter from the tray.  
  
The Jaffa nodded, "he and Major Carter have been given permission to view the law enforcement files tomorrow, to see if the killing could be that of the Goa'uld "  
  
Jonas picked up a slice of bread and began to spread the butter, "I wish I could go too," he reflected, "but I'm under strict instructions to see Dr Booard tomorrow."  
  
"I believe that would be a wise precaution," the Jaffa replied.  
  
Jonas folded the buttered bread over and devoured a large mouthful, "to see if I'm nuts or not?" He retorted, folding his eyebrows.  
  
"Indeed," Teal'c said, without emotion.  
  
Jonas stopped chewing for a moment and deliberated the Jaffa's straightforward answer with questioning eyes; Teal'c smiled, Jonas relaxed again taking another mouthful.  
  
"So what have you and the Colonel got planned for tomorrow?" Jonas shifted in the bed, stretching slightly.  
  
"We are waiting for a communication from Jacob Carter."  
  
"S'hang?" Jonas enquired, sitting up straighter.  
  
The Jaffa nodded, speaking softly, "yes, he has just contacted the Tok'ra. It is Osiris who has subjugated your home world."  
  
"Using Anubis' Jaffa," the Kelownan contemplated.  
  
"It would seem so," Teal'c confirmed. "We are waiting for S'hang to verify the coordinates to the false god's base of operation."  
  
"Osiris isn't on Kelowna then?" Jonas asked.  
  
"No it would appear that 'she' is keeping a low profile as not to alert the other System Lords to the occupation of your planet."  
  
"And the Naquadria," the younger man added, brushing his hair back.  
  
"It is a very powerful element," Teal'c ventured, "one you would not want your enemy to know about."  
  
"Yeah," Jonas replied with a flick of an ironic smile.  
  
Teal'c picked up a banana from the tray, peeled the skin back and broke off a mouthful, "what happens when the coordinates are received?" Jonas asked.  
  
The Jaffa swallowed, "a small task force will be sent to verify the threat and what action needs to be taken to eliminate the Goa'uld. Osiris cannot be allowed to become as powerful as Anubis by using the resources of your planet."  
  
"Maybe I'll get to go on that mission," Jonas considered, looking towards Teal'c.  
  
"Maybe Jonas Quinn," his friend replied.  
  
The Kelownan sighed and quickly looked over to where the camcorder sat, "but it doesn't end there, does it?" He stated.  
  
"How so?" Teal'c asked placing the empty banana skin down on the tray.  
  
Jonas shrugged, "we cut off the head of one Goa'uld and another one rises to take their place."  
  
Teal'c pondered this for a moment and then spoke, "but each time we do, we free more people from their tyranny and add more allies for our fight. The Goa'uld's days are numbered, Jonas Quinn."  
  
"And after?" Jonas posed, a sadness in his voice.  
  
"Maybe we go home," the Jaffa said softly, looking into the future.  
  
The Kelownan looked down at the tray but didn't really see it, "you are thinking of Cassandra Fraiser," Teal'c stated.  
  
Jonas swallowed, "I, I guess." He looked up and gave the Jaffa a gentle smile, "I guess I feel that I'm not really sure where 'home' is any more."  
  
"You will always be welcome on Earth, Jonas Quinn and Chulak of course," Teal'c bowed his head as he spoke.  
  
The Kelownan gave his friend a poignant smile and rested his eyes.  
  
-----------  
  
Thanks for stopping by xx 


	20. Facade

This story is mine, mine, mine but I don't own anything else.  
  
99 Jahre Krieg  
Liessen keinen Platz fuer Sieger  
Kriegsminister gibt es nicht mehr  
Und auch keine Duesenflieger  
Heute zieh ich meine Runden  
Seh die Welt in Truemmern liegen  
Hab' nen Luftballon gefunden  
Denk' an Dich und lass' ihn fliegen

99 dreams I have had.  
In every one a red balloon.  
It's all over and I'm standing pretty.  
In this dust that was a city.  
If I could find a souvenir.  
Just to prove the world was here.  
And here is a red balloon  
I think of you and let it go.  
  
============  
  
At the precinct, the lead detective on the investigation, Detective Rice, showed Daniel and Sam to an airless, dark-green, room. He made no attempt to hide his resentment at their involvement in what he viewed 'should' be a police matter.  
  
He hovered as they analysed the printed data that was in a variety of dog- eared, coloured, folders, "so," Rice began, pulling a cigarette packet out of his threadbare, sports jacket, "why's the Air Force 'so' interested in these three murders?" He asked, routinely tapping the filter tip on the cardboard of the pack without looking up.  
  
"I'm afraid that's classified information Detective Rice," Sam answered, looking towards Daniel.  
  
The detective sighed and rested against the wall for support, his cynical, mahogany, eyes burrowing deep into Jackson's unruffled expression.  
  
"But you think you know who did this?" He probed, using his years of experience to read the Egyptologist.  
  
"You can be sure that 'if' we did, the perpetrator will be brought to justice," Daniel replied, trying to hold the man's resentful gaze.  
  
"Military justice?" Rice asked, his eyes focusing, for a moment, on the flame from his lighter as it blazed against the tobacco.  
  
"Sir," Sam initiated, ready to commence with the National Security spiel but was cut short as Rice searched for more answers.  
  
"Doctor Jackson, is that a medical title? Are you some sort of shrink?" He took a lung full of nicotine, the cigarette glowing between the 'v' of his yellowing fingers.  
  
"Detective, please, if you would give us some space here?" Sam requested, getting up from the chair to stress the point.  
  
Rice flicked the end of the cigarette, dispersing ash into the air and shook his head in frustration. He moved away from the wall and pulled his trousers up with his free hand, rattling the change in his pockets. He opened the door, looking back at both of them with distaste, before exiting the room.  
  
=====  
  
The lift doors welcomed Jonas to level two with a non-committal hiss, opening on a corridor that mirrored every other floor at the SGC. He made his way along the passageway to a small office; a formidable nurse was stationed outside. She smiled vaguely at him, which took the harshness from her severe haircut and conveyed an affability that had been hidden in her, rosy, weathered face.  
  
"Can I help you?" Her voice was clear and commanding, as she looked him over, taking note of his non-military appearance.  
  
Jonas leant against her desk, clutching his notebook for comfort, "Jonas Quinn to see Doctor Booard," he announce softly.  
  
She hit her keyboard with force, scanning the screen which displayed an electronic diary, "ah yes," she replied, crinkling her hazel, green eyes, "Mister Quinn, Doctor Booard apologies but he's running about fifteen minutes late, he's in the infirmary at the moment." Her voice inadvertently sparkled at the mention of the Doctor's name and Jonas sensed an unrequited love hiding beneath the austere, lieutenant's uniform.  
  
"If you'd like to follow me, you may wait in his office."  
  
She got up from her swivel chair and showed Jonas through the door, "fruit tea?" She commanded more than asked.  
  
Jonas sat down in the synthetic, leather, armchair that was offered, "um, yes please," he replied, taking note of the abstract art that was displayed on the walls.  
  
"We've blackcurrant or lemon and ginger," the Lieutenant posed efficiently, checking some boxes that were by a drinks machine.  
  
"Um, blackcurrant please," the Kelownan returned with a smile that was overlooked.  
  
The machine began to gurgle and hiss loudly with steam, "doughnut?" She directed, thrusting a cardboard patisserie box under his nose, "I believe the jellied ones are your favourite."  
  
Jonas opened the box and looked at her puzzled. She sighed but her face softened, "Doctor Booard likes to make all of his, his, 'visitors' feel relaxed and at home. So he takes the time to find out what they like, food and drink wise, so he can offer it to them during their sessions here."  
  
Jonas took out a doughnut and bit into it nodding as he did, "thank you," he said, looking for her name badge, "Lieutenant, Lieutenant Wright, um would you like one?" He offered her the box.  
  
She looked down at the variety of cakes that the doctor had ordered in, especially for Quinn, and shook her head; no the Doctor had been quite insistent, this morning, that they were only for the alien. She smiled at the memory, he was normally a very placid man but this morning there had been a fire, a zeal, inside of him that she had so often desired to see.  
  
She handed Jonas the fruit tea, "I know most people, on this base, think a psychiatrist is waste of resources," she cocked a unkempt eyebrow at the Kelownan, "but he's doing good work here and he really cares about each case he's given."  
  
Wright held his gaze for a moment and Jonas found himself colouring up under her scrutiny, "he, he sounds like a good man," he replied, with a nervous smile.  
  
"Yes he is," she acknowledged making her way towards the door, the leather of her shoes creaking as she walked, "yes he is," she whispered to her heart.  
  
========  
  
Sam closed the orange dossier she'd been reading and looked across at Daniel; "they found obsidian fragments in the cut on the nurse, Rona Clarence," she said, looking sadly down at the small, headshot that accompanied the file.  
  
It was slightly out of focus, taken by a friend or family member at some sort of church function. The girl held a plastic cup to her lips, her eyes downcast, trying to avoid the camera.  
  
Sam sighed and rubbed her eyes, the light in the room was intensely bright, "the, um, incision was so precise they think that the perpetrator had medical training; they even brought her boyfriend, a doctor at the hospital, in for questioning." She closed file.  
  
Daniel knotted his eyebrows in thought, "same here, with the other unsolved murders of the student and lawyer, last month. Obsidian fragments, found in the cut," he replied, crossing something off his notepad.  
  
Sam lent back in the Formica chair, "so, do you think it's him?" She asked, trying to dispel the everyday image of the nurse from her mind.  
  
"Yeah, the killings match the same pattern as those on Kelowna," Daniel replied, resting his chin in his hands.  
  
"If, if you cross reference these with the more recent murders, on the FBI database, I'd say that Huitzilopochtli's been here, on Earth, for at least ten years," he sat back in the chair and massaged the back of his neck that moist with perspiration.  
  
"Ten years, without raising suspicion, are you sure?" Sam asked, stretching her legs under the desk.  
  
Daniel looked at her, "he's been careful to blend in and not draw attention to himself. I, I think he's probably spent the majority of them somewhere remote, where nobody asks too many questions," he lent forward again.  
  
"Sam, our guy's a survivor, he's knows how to avoid detection, that's why he's going it alone, plus the fact he doesn't need the veneration, anymore, like other Goa'ulds. His main goal, in life, is taking the force, the energy, the Kai from others by removing their hearts; that's what he believes makes him omnipotent."  
  
"But Daniel ten years is a long time."  
  
Daniel nodded, "I think he's been unable to leave, maybe because of our Deep Space sensors or maybe his craft..."  
  
The door opened and a young, uniformed, officer entered juggling two cups of coffee in his hands and a clipboard under his arm, "Detective Rice thought you might like some refreshment," he said, the words sounded rehearsed.  
  
He placed the hot beverages, carefully, on the table and emptied some sugar and cream packets from his pockets before putting the clipboard down.  
  
Sam smiled at him, "thank you um..."  
  
"Officer Keller, Ma'am," he replied, rubbing a sleeve across his glossy name badge.  
  
"Thank you Officer Keller," Sam acknowledged.  
  
He returned her smile, expanding the freckles that adorned his face, "you found what you were looking for in them files?" He asked, leaning on the gun that was positioned at his hip, trying to establish an air of authority that his tender face betrayed.  
  
"We're nearly done," Daniel agreed, looking up.  
  
"Good," Keller replied, and then quickly added, "not good that you're, you know, 'nearly done', I mean, it's good that you found something useful," his face took on the expression of someone sucking a lemon.  
  
"We knew that," Sam countered with a little smile; the Officer looked relieved but continued to loiter.  
  
"Pretty hinky stuff, them ritual type murders," he continued, nodding towards the orange dossier.  
  
Daniel agreed, "pretty hinky," he repeated, inadvertently looking down at the clipboard.  
  
"What's this?" He asked, his attention drawn by the coloured still of a cadaver that was pinned to the board. He picked it up, eyes narrowing in thought and Sam noticed the colour drain from his face.  
  
"It's, it's a John Doe we found two days ago, dead," he emphasised for Sam benefit, "on one of the cycle trails, had no type of identification on him at all. Thought it might be an IA, he has that foreign look about him, especially when you know how he died," Keller explained, leaning back on his gun, again.  
  
"What did he die of?" Sam asked, her eyes not leaving Daniel's face.  
  
The young man smiled, "well ma'am, that's a hinky thing, too" he lent forward and whispered, "seems there was something, g-gest, gestating inside of him," he pointed to the back of his neck, "around his spinal cord, some sort of parasite our Doc reckons. You know, like those stories you hear about on cable, in the jungle, where spiders and insects and things lay their eggs in people's ears and stuff. Sent the body off to the city lab for further investigation."  
  
Daniel looked down at the photo again and recognised Huitzilopochtli's ex- host.  
  
============  
  
Jonas massaged his forehead with his fingers, applying pressure to the top of his nose. He felt exhausted, the tiredness weighing his body down, trying to coax him to sleep.  
  
He looked up at the sterile wall clock, following the second hand that was washing the minutes away with its smooth movement. Just for a moment it seemed to stretch into an infinite expanse as his eyes focused and re- adjusted in their fight to stay awake.  
  
He let out a sigh and tried to keep his mind occupied by untangling the abstract pictures that decorated the office but their vivid colours screamed and savaged his mind in a violent salsa.  
  
Jonas rubbed his un-gloved, dewy, palm along his thigh as the heat of the room suddenly became unbearable and suffocating. He thought about leaving but his body couldn't make that decision, it was as if it had become detached from his mind, alone in a numbness of being.  
  
The door opened and Doctor Booard entered, spilling the files he was carrying onto the floor. Jonas concentrated on the figure bent over to retrieve the fallen items, his mind processing the information in fatigued fragments while the eye inside him screamed to be heard.  
  
=========  
  
Daniel and Sam hurried across the busy police car park, weaving themselves through the maze of sun-burnished vehicles.  
  
"The body will start to deteriorate soon, without the symbiote to sustain it," Sam began, as she matched Jackson's dedicated pace.  
  
Daniel stopped abruptly and turned to look at her, narrowing his eyes in thought, "Daniel?" She questioned.  
  
He slapped his palm on his forehead, "the Stargate," he cried in sudden understanding.  
  
"Daniel?" She said again, placing her sunglasses, delicately, on her nose.  
  
"How, how could I have been so stupid," his voice held an annoyance, as he fumbled for the car keys.  
  
"Sam, what's, what's the first thing Huitzilopochtli does when he feels threaten?"  
  
She looked to the ground as she deliberated before answering, "he changes hosts," she replied in realisation, "but how do we know he feels threaten?"  
  
Daniel pressed the key fob so that the car doors unlocked with a functional click and flash of indicators, "we don't, for sure" he answered clearly, "but this link between himself, Jonas and the 'lost' Egyptians, I think, is strong enough to send him some sort of warning signal and he's here, in Colorado Springs, where there just happens to be a means of escape, the gate."  
  
"So you think Huitzilopochtli can sense we're on to him?" She raised her voice slightly to be heard over the traffic noise of the freeway.  
  
Daniel nodded, it seemed to make sense, "but he just can't walk into the base," Sam poised as she got into the vehicle, feeling the warmth of the leather seat against her back.  
  
"He could if the host he's chosen is someone you'd expect to see there," Daniel responded, pulling the seatbelt across himself with a hefty tug.  
  
"Sam, he's had time to plan this," he reiterated.  
  
"But we'd detect the symbiote, Teal'c, myself..."  
  
"He's managed to escape detection before," Jackson retorted, enticing the problematical engine to start with a practised turn of the key and a patient left foot.  
  
Sam looked out the windscreen in reflection, "you think he might have some sort of drug or device that could somehow mask the presence of the symbiote?"  
  
Daniel nodded, "yeah," he replied, reversing the car out of a tricky parking space.  
  
Sam pulled at seat belt and clicked it into place, "but, then, surely Jonas would be able to sense it, if this link is so strong between them both?"  
  
They both looked at each other, for a second, in reaction to her statement, "shit," Daniel cried hitting the gas peddle hard while Sam reached into her pocket and hit speed dial on her cell.  
  
=========  
  
Jonas watched the Doctor's mouth move, trying hard to focus on the sounds, trying to separate them into audible words. Again he rubbed his forehead in an effort to expel the thick haze that was clinging to his mind.  
  
Booard sighed and shut the lid down on the box of doughnuts without looking from the Kelownan. He smiled, with secret lips, knowing the drugs he had laced them with were working their way through the alien's system.  
  
He got up, from where he was sitting on the corner of his desk and walked behind Jonas to look at a yellow and blue-sponged portrait that was hanging there. He took off his half rimed glasses and chewed the end in consideration, "you must have many questions, still unanswered about your sister's death," he said, without turning round.  
  
Jonas fought through the stupor to reply, "only one I guess," he said, in realisation.  
  
"Which is?" Booard coaxed, turning his head slightly to view the image on the wall from a different angle.  
  
"Why?" He paused feeling the words stumble from his lips with emotion, "w- why take her? All, all the other v-victims were adults. Her heart couldn't have satisfied Huitzilopochtli's craving for power."  
  
"Hmmm," Booard nodded, as if digesting the alien's question, "what do you make of this painting?" He asked, pointing towards it with his glasses.  
  
"I'm s-sorry?" Jonas stuttered, turning his weighty head towards the Doctor.  
  
"I mean, is it art, a few random splodges of paint on a canvass? Tell me Jonas what do you see?"  
  
Jonas looked at the painting, the confused colours making no shape or image in his throbbing mind, "I, I s-see," he faltered, his words slurring slightly; the world had suddenly become disorganized and faded in a moving kaleidoscope of assorted hues.  
  
He looked deeper into the picture, watching it fluctuated in front of his eyes. He blinked and just for a second a fleeting image imprinted itself in his mind's eye; the image of a green balloon with a gold dragon printed on it.  
  
An inner voice tried to tear its way through the vapour that was clouding his senses. He tried to process its information above the continual beat of his heart exploding in his head like a hammer against a metal anvil; its words left him cold.  
  
Jonas tried to stand but his whole body was motionless in a web of narcotic twine. He swallowed, asking the question again, "why, why k-kill her?" The words tore through his soul, re-opening those wounds that had been with him since childhood.  
  
Booard smiled disturbingly, like a spider with a fat fly, "because she was your 'sister'," he said cruelly, the Goa'uld no longer hiding beneath Doctor's skin.  
  
"I sensed you, that day in the chamber, all those years ago, as I cut into the Egyptian. Oh, I could not see you but I felt your power and tasted the potency of your tonalli; all others, since that day, have left me hungry," he bent down and whispered in Jonas' ear.  
  
"Then I saw you, with the girl on Kelowna, a lamb, an innocent, oblivious to your destiny, content to live in the rosy glow of childhood. I could still sense you, but only just, your flavour was sprinkled with the sugar dust of happiness," there was a lapse in his accent.  
  
His eyes glowed with light, "do you know what makes you strong, Jonas? What gives each heart its tonalli?"  
  
He didn't wait for the Kelownan to answer. "It is pain. Pain and suffering make you strong; give your souls their resilience, your hearts their essence. I know, for I have put many under the knife, seen their agony and terror as I cut to their core and there I have tasted it."  
  
He grabbed Jonas' shoulder and massaged it roughly, "but yours, Jonas, yours is a taste to savour. For I sowed the seeds of your pain, when I took your sister from you and now it is time for me to reap what I have sown."  
  
Huitzilopochtli pulled out an obsidian knife that was sheaved on his calf, "I've been waiting a long time for this heart and its tonalli to mature Jonas Quinn," he said, deeply inhaling the Kelownan's essence while fondling the back of his neck with an index finger. "It is time for you to join your 'sister'."  
  
===========  
  
Sorry to leave you there but that's my Cliff Richard, sorry cliffhanger.


	21. Kiss

Hi guys back again for another chapter; sorry it's taken so long.  
  
Thanks again for those reviews – WOW.  
  
Thanks to CT xx  
  
As normal don't own, ain't mine.  
  
Oh, kiss me beneath the milky twilight  
Lead me out on the moonlit floor  
Lift up your open hand  
Strike up the band and make the fireflies dance  
Silver moon's sparkling  
So kiss me  
  
Sixpence Non The Richer  
  
Also lyrics from: WHITE RABBIT -- Jefferson Airplane  
  
===========  
  
General Hammond's explosive voice echoed throughout the base, like a divine herald, as the warning lights flashed in time with the pounding of the klaxon.  
  
Lieutenant Wright replaced the receiver back into its cradle ending the curt call from Colonel O'Neill who had ordered her to make sure Quinn 'stayed put'.  
  
She got to her feet and then hesitated, toying with the point of her collar as she so often did when in thought. Years of military service had taught her to read between the lines and this told her that the lockdown had something to do with the alien and therefore, could, endanger the Doctor.  
  
She reached for a set of keys that was inside a clumsy, lopsided, clay pot that her nephew had made and opened the bottom drawer of her desk. She pulled out a small handgun that her father had given her when she'd hit thirteen and held it in her hand, reflecting on the girl she had been, back then, the idealistic and unattractive teenager who had, had her heart and virginity broken by faithless sex. She sighed heavily and ran her fingertips around her ears, pushing the bristles of her hair back to compose herself.  
  
She slipped the loaded gun into her pocket and tapped it before walking the few steps toward Booard's office, the squeak of her shoes sounding her arrival long before she knocked on the door and entered.  
  
This was her green mile.  
  
=======  
  
Colonel O'Neill stood impatiently in the lift watching the levels light up as he passed them. He tapped the side of his leg in frustration as the elevator stopped two floors short of his objective. An airman, hurriedly returning to his post, stepped in and saluted rigidly with his lips pursed. O'Neill quickly returned the gesture and stepped back further into the metal box. The airman pressed the button for the first level and the lift resumed its course.  
  
Jack scrutinised the man's neck for signs of a symbiote entry wound. He stepped closer, his hand resting on the side arm he had requisitioned from the armoury, making the unfortunate airman feel even more uncomfortable.  
  
"Sir?" The Private swallowed, giving Jack a nervous smile over his shoulder; O'Neill gave him an oppressive stare.  
  
The lift reached level two and the doors opened with an obliging hiss. The airman saluted again, relief apparent on his face as he awkwardly moved out of the way so the Colonel could exit.  
  
"Jack," Daniel called, as both he and Sam entered the corridor from a second elevator. They quickened their stride to join O'Neill; fastening the radios they had picked up, topside, to their equipment vests.  
  
"You sure about this, Daniel, that, that this snakehead's, here, at the SGC?" The Colonel enquired, his mind racing passed polite greetings.  
  
"Or on his way," the Egyptologist corrected, nodding, "yeah, Jack I'm certain."  
  
The Colonel looked over at Sam, who was checking her side arm; the Major gave him a quick nod. "Well that's just great, this place is getting like Goa'uld central," he shook his head, "I've left Teal'c stationed by the Gate room to see if he can sniff our guy out..."  
  
Daniel went to say something but O'Neill cut him short, holding up his hand, "just in case, Daniel, you're wrong about him being able to conceal himself."  
  
Jackson gave him an ambiguous look, "well at least we've got Jonas," the Colonel continued with a half-hearted smile.  
  
"Not if this guy gets to him first," Daniel replied, halting at the empty nurse's station.  
  
"Oh, this could be bad," O'Neill concluded, intuition furring his back.  
  
He opened his radio with a click, "T, you got anything?"  
  
The Jaffa's voice hissed with static, "negative, O'Neill, do you wish me to join you?"  
  
"No, stay put, we could do with your expertise down there. We'll keep you posted."  
  
"Very well, O'Neill, Teal'c out."  
  
Jack looked towards Sam and gestured for her and Daniel to get behind him as he cautiously tried Booard's door.  
  
The door opened but not fully, something was blocking it. The Colonel scanned what he could see of the office and entered, slowly, pushing against obstruction; Sam and Daniel followed.  
  
Lieutenant Wright's motionless body barricaded the door from the wall, impeding its full movement.  
  
Sam crouched down, placing two fingers to the woman's neck; she shook her head.  
  
"Shit," O'Neill responded, his mind and body vigilantly checking the room for any movement.  
  
Carter examined the bruising that spanned Wright's throat, "looks like she was strangled."  
  
She picked up the handgun that was protruding from under the body and checked the chamber, "it's full, she didn't get a chance to use it."  
  
Sam looked down into the older woman's shocked expression, which had masked her face in death. With the palm of her hand she closed Lieutenant Wright's sad and mirror-less eyes adding some dignity to the sprawled body.  
  
Jack went towards the, carved, oak desk that sat resplendent in the large office, "nice," he commented, dusting his fingertip over its surface.  
  
He stopped to examine the patisserie box and half eaten doughnut that seemed to soil its magnificence. He frowned, his mind focusing on the partial consumed cake; he picked it up and touched the side of the plastic cup containing the fruit tea, "still warm," he stated, looking towards Daniel and then Sam.  
  
Carter got to her feet and gestured towards the closed door of the Doctor's adjoining office, the one he used for his sessions, the one with the couch.  
  
O'Neill nodded and whispered, "Daniel, you stay here."  
  
"Jack..."  
  
The Colonel gave the younger man a 'no-nonsense' stare and Daniel withdrew his protest, staying close to the body of the fallen Lieutenant.  
  
Again O'Neill and Sam entered the smaller room with caution, straining their eyes in the ambient light to make out the sparsely furnished room.  
  
"Jeez!" Jack exclaimed, stopping in his tracks and placing his hand instinctively to his radio.  
  
"We need a medical team to Booard's office now!" He exclaimed, watching Sam rush to the couch, to tend the injured Kelownan.  
  
"Colonel?" General Hammond's voice boomed above the interference.  
  
"It's Jonas, Sir, he's, he's...., Carter?"  
  
Jack joined his 2IC who was trying to plug a wound to the alien's chest with a hand towel from a small porcelain sink in the corner.  
  
"General, he has a deep wound to his chest and has lost a lot of blood," she looked at the pool shadowing the floor, "I think Huitzilopochtli tried to remove his heart, for real this time, but was interrupted, probably by Lieutenant Wright."  
  
"Lieutenant Wright?" Hammond asked.  
  
"I'm afraid she's dead, General," Jack replied, "strangled," he glanced back toward the body in the other room.  
  
"Colonel, any sign of Doctor Booard?" There was anger in Hammond's voice.  
  
"Negative, Sir." Jack replied, quickly glancing around the room again.  
  
There was a pause, "could he be the host?" Hammond asked.  
  
Jack looked towards Daniel, who was stood in the doorway, "I found this in the desk drawer," the Egyptologist stated, handing the Colonel a used vial and syringe of Goa'uld design.  
  
"My guess is, whatever substance was in the vial cloaks the symbiote."  
  
Jack looked down at the blue glass and nodded, "General, there's a good chance that Booard is the host."  
  
"Okay Colonel, I'll get Siler to check the surveillance video for the Doctor's movements. Meanwhile I'm sending a team up to your position to secure the rest of that floor, I want you and Doctor Jackson to co-ordinate with them. Hammond out."  
  
Jack released the button on his radio and looked at Sam who was struggling to stop the surge of blood, "how the hell did this happen, didn't he sense the attack? I mean, what's the use of having this all Seeing Eye thing if it doesn't protect you!"  
  
Sam lifted Jonas' eyelid back, "he's been drugged, Sir," she concluded, " it was probably in the doughnuts".  
  
Jack looked at the sugar that still coated his fingers and wiped them down his shirt; he narrowed his eyes, "what you got there Daniel?"  
  
The Egyptologist lifted something from the floor between his thumb and forefinger, "Huitzilopochtli's Obsidian blade, the one he used back on the planet," he replied, absentmindedly watching the Kelownan's blood drip from its edge.  
  
Jack shook his head and rubbed his temples, "Carter how's he doing?"  
  
Sam looked up without saying a word, O'Neill shook his head again, "damn it!" he cried walking back into the other office, "where the hell's that medical team?"  
  
==============  
  
The sky was the summerset of blues and the day was fat and lazy. Jonas stood at the edge of a field of honey grass watching its erect, smooth, stalks swaying against the seduction of the breeze. The head of orange flowers had long been sacrificed to the turn of the season and were, now, replaced by dense, slender spikes, heavy with the rasp of dry seeds.  
  
He reached his hand out and caressed one of the long stems all the way up to its plump crown, which broke apart at his touch, giving up a cache of silver kernels into his palm.  
  
=======  
  
Sam watched Jonas' eyes quiver in his in-between state. She pressed hard on the wound keeping one eye impatiently on the door for the medical team to arrive. Jack and Daniel had left, momentarily, to direct the search of this level, as the CCTV had drawn a blank as to Booard's whereabouts.  
  
She touched the Kelownan's forehead, leaving a bloody imprint and forced her lips to smile, "you've got to fight this Jonas, don't give up on us now."  
  
She picked up his gloved hand, which was limp in her grasp and held it on his chest, "come on hero, we need you," she paused and gripped his fingers tighter, "I need you," she whispered, "I can't loose another friend."  
  
The alien trembled, "yes," he said, softly, on tired lips.  
  
================  
  
Jonas felt the woman's arms encircle him in a soothing embrace and her head fall gently against the back of his neck, "we've been here before," she said tenderly.  
  
"Yes," Jonas replied, without turning round, letting her embrace warm him.  
  
She lifted her head, to look over the tall grass, her abundant curls tickling his skin, "and yet, you still blame yourself for my death."  
  
"He brought the pain back again," Jonas responded, touching his chest with a spread hand.  
  
"Which he meant to do, so when he took your heart it would be full of grief," she placed her palm on top of his.  
  
He looked down to the ground, "Jonas, my death 'was' my destiny, there was nothing you could of done to prevent it from happening," Mia said quietly against his body.  
  
He sighed and looked up again, "I know, it's just that, that I miss you," he replied.  
  
She moved beside him, her blue robes imitating the breeze like waves curling on an ocean, "You know I can put an end to your suffering, Jonas. Come with me, leave this place, end this journey's circle."  
  
She took his hand again and squeezed it, looking into his face with affectionate eyes.  
  
A small girl made a path through lofty stalks her white, blonde, curls bobbing as she ran. She was dressed in cut off dungarees that frayed around the knees and were patched with leftover, patterned, curtain material. She tumbled over her young feet with a yelp and was quickly joined by her brother. He picked her up and steadied her back on her feet, brushing the earth from her clothes and placing the denim straps back on her shoulders. She saluted him, in a clumsy movement, sticking out her belly as she did. He returned the gesture and picked up the stick she had been carrying as a rifle. She took it from him and disappeared into the grass, giggling.  
  
The boy turned his head to where Mia and Jonas stood watching their past unfold. His curious, green, eyes searched for them, sensing their presence in the dust of the sunlight. He waited a moment, in anticipation, and then arranged the oversized straps of his own dungarees before following his sister in a wave of grass.  
  
"This is who we were," Mia said, watching the sway of stalks mark the children's progress.  
  
Jonas turned to face her and smiled, "and this is who I am now," he replied looking down at their entwined hands. "I have to stay, I am needed here."  
  
Mia touched his cheek, "I know."  
  
"And yet, you still gave me the choice?" Jonas queried.  
  
"Yes," she replied, still looking into the grass.  
  
"Why?"  
  
Mia turned and looked deep into the pool of his eyes, "because you are my brother and above all else in the universe, your suffering hurts me the most."  
  
She dropped her head but Jonas raised it between his thumb and forefinger, "you know Huitzilopochtli was wrong, it's love that gives us our strength."  
  
"It is a balance of both," she answered, kissing him lightly on the cheek before fading into the shadows that had began to gather to tear the light from his vision.  
  
Pain seared like lightening through his chest knocking him back down into the darkness of his mind. Memories engulfed him in rapid, flashing, images of anguish. He saw colourless people cleaved in the frozen earth, Andari peasants scattered like marble effigies in a shantytown that once promised their salvation.  
  
An icy wind bit through his clothes with teeth of steel and gnawed at his unprotected fingers. He looked down at his hand and found he was holding the carved, ivory, hilt of a sword. Words of diplomacy swirled around its polished metal, breaking into letters on its sharp, savoir-faire, blade and falling as blood to the ground.  
  
The dead around him rose, some clutching their wounds, their eyes vacant in their waxen skin. They followed the trail of scarlet left by the sword, scratching at the solid earth, trying to reform the droplets back into letters, to words, to hope.  
  
A debauched laughter filled his head, whipping the flakes of snow into a frenzy. He rubbed his stinging eyes and when he opened them a woman with dark curls hovered in the wind before him. She tilted her head, her neck cracking as she moved it and watched him through her soulless eyes.  
  
She brought a finger up to her lips and smeared them with the congealed blood that was seeping from the pulsating, leathery, scars that patterned her, patchy, blue skin.  
  
She laughed again and scraped the knife, she held, across her naked breast, crimping the flesh in a gluey crimson.  
  
The woman moved towards him, curling a length of hair around her finger, "one pill makes you larger and one pill makes you small, and the ones that mother gives you don't do anything at all."  
  
Her voice was disjointed, her movement erratic as her mind wandered aimlessly in its insanity. She held the point of the knife towards him and moved it down his chest, smiling with twisted lips.  
  
"And if you go chasing rabbits, and you know you're going to fall, tell 'em a hookah smoking caterpillar, has given you the call."  
  
She let the knife fall and Jonas watched it spiral, forever, into the snow. She held her finger to her lips, once more, and bid him to be quiet. She bent down to his ear, "the caterpillar is hiding in a kiss."  
  
The woman moved her lips across his cheek and he felt the chill of her tongue on his flesh. Jonas closed his eyes as her dead mouth touched his in a cold kiss and he was suddenly thrown back to Booard's office.  
  
Familiar images rambled across his mind, as the not to distant reality became abstract dreams. He saw his comatose self, cut and bleeding, on a padded couch while Huitzilopochtli stood over him like a large, spellbinding, bird of prey but the Goa'uld's attention was drawn by the panic of the klaxon and the creak of footsteps in leather.  
  
The picture fluttered as time twitched and Jonas watched as Booard planted an imperfect kiss on Lieutenant Wright's surprised and irregular lips. For a brief moment, a second, her heart spread its wings and soared in the sunlight of her youth but then the Doctor grabbed her throat and squeezed her dreams from her forever.  
  
She fell away from his austere embrace a betrayed woman, her blunt hands instinctively encircling the blackening, Machiavellian, necklace left by the impression of his fingertips. Something gorged itself on her wretched soul, supplanting it with its own consciousness, absorbing her into oblivion. The surplus Doctor dropped to the floor like a puppet whose strings had been cut and Lieutenant Wright's pupils sparkled with calculating light.  
  
===========  
  
Jonas' exhausted eyes fought the fall-out from his visions under closed lids. Sam held his hand tighter as he shuddered fitfully in his delirium. His eyes opened, briefly, but only the whites showed as he stuttered something inaudible.  
  
"Sssh, Jonas, save your strength," Sam replied, feeling something other than the Kelownan's hand in her grip.  
  
She opened the strong fist that surrounded the alien's and five silver seeds fell out of their embrace.  
  
=========  
  
The Goa'uld reanimated the body, it now inhabited, with a subtle, muffled, gasp. It amplified the blood flow around the host, filling her heart so it juddered back to life and warmed her pallid skin.  
  
Huitzilopochtli had hoped to use this pathetic shell to occupy one of the medical team that came to assist Quinn but now another opportunity had opened up to him.  
  
Lieutenant Wright's body discreetly got to its feet and reached under the armchair where the Aztec God of War had hidden its ribbon device. It fastened the apparatus onto the Lieutenant's thick fingers and stretched them as its mind connected with the device again, which it had used early to get rid of Booard's useless body.  
  
The Goa'uld looked down at the floor and pushed its toe into the powdered remains of the Doctor and an ember of a smile dusted the host's lips; Major Carter would make an excellent host. 


	22. Honeygrass

Hi, yes I'm still here.

I'm sorry for the delay - hope you're still out there :o)

Disclaimer, see previous chapters

And a good heart these days is hard to find,  
True love, the lasting kind.  
A good heart these days is hard to find,  
so please be gentle with this heart of mine – A Good Heart - Fergal Sharkey

-o-o-

Daniel stopped abruptly in thought, distancing himself from the group searching the remaining offices. Jack motioned for the others to continue and then turned to face the Egyptologist, "Daniel?"

The younger man looked up, "something's not right, Jack."

O'Neill sighed, "not right as in?" He placated.

"I don't know. I just have this nagging feeling we've missed something," his brow furrowed, "something...?" He whispered perplexed.

Jack leant against the wall with one hand, "like?" He said restlessly, still keeping one eye on the advancing search.

"Like, um, like," his eyes widened, "the, the obsidian blade!"

"The knife?" O'Neill said, with scepticism.

"Yes, yes, it's, it's a part of the ritual, his ritual," Daniel explained, breathlessly. "Why the hell didn't I see it before, he wouldn't leave it behind."

Jack looked at him for a moment then reached for his radio, "Carter?"

No reply, Jack tried again, "Carter?"

-o-o-o-

Jonas looked up at Sam's face as he clung to the walls of death's dank and pitch-black shaft. The steep stonework around him dripped with despondency and pessimism turning the footholds greasy. He began to climb, slowly, keeping his mind focused on the future's dawn that was radiating with hope from the opening above. A couple of times he wavered, missing his footing and slipped back down into the gloom but Sam's soothing voice and strong hold kept him going.

As he neared life's threshold he felt the daylight gently kiss his skin. Pain burned through his body and fatigue beckoned with opened arms but still he pressed forward, hand over hand until he reached the edge of the parapet.

He opened his eyes and grasped Sam's hand firmly, "Wright!" He cried with breathless exhaustion, struggling against the crippling effects of the wound and the drugs.

Sam placed a hand on his shoulder and turned her head slightly to see the pitiless and domineering form of Lieutenant Wright standing in the doorway.

-o-o-o-

Jonas felt Sam's body fall across his own as the Goa'uld hit her with a wave of energy from the ribbon device. He tried desperately to connect with the eye but his drugged mind still wandered aimlessly in its suffocating bubble. He pushed hard, using all of his self-control, trying to penetrate the cloud of confusion that surrounded his ability and through the pain of determination he found a chink.

-o-o-o-

Daniel's hands instinctively went to his head as it began to pound. He stopped, his body bowing slightly with the pressure erupting in his skull and let out a small cry of anguish. He heard Jack's voice over him but it seemed distant and indistinct. A slight trickle of blood began to seep from his nose and he felt his energy begin to evaporate in the swirls that fogged his comprehension. Jack gripped his arm to stop him from keeling over and he sensed something, someone in the back of his thoughts.

"Jonas?" He questioned in a whisper.

He quickly reached for his radio ignoring the Colonel's concern, "General Hammond?"

"Go ahead Doctor Jackson."

"General you have to dial Aztlan, the planet, the planet we were excavating."

"Aztlan?" Hammond's voice sounded guarded.

Daniel looked at O'Neill as he regained his composure, wiping the blood from under his nose, "Jack, it's Jonas he connected with me," he explained.

Jack moved his radio closer to his mouth and gritted his teeth slightly, "General, I think we should do as Daniel says," he gave a small shrug and helped the Egyptologist to his feet.

"Alright Colonel, it's your call, we will begin dialling straight away."

-o-o-o-

Jack and Daniel entered Booard's office. A gurney lay on its side amid the unconscious forms of several medical staff and in the centre of this disarray Lieutenant Wright stood wielding the limp figure of Samantha Carter.

O'Neill raised his weapon as the Goa'uld turned to face them, "thought you were dead," Jack spat.

The Lieutenant's eyes sparked with guile, "ah, I see I had not as much time as I thought. What a shame, I would of enjoyed owning this body," he pulled the unconscious form of Carter to him, resting the hand device against the side of her head.

"Jack..."

"I see it Daniel," O'Neill replied, not taking his eye from the Goa'uld.

Huitzilopochtli forced the host's lips into a lopsided smile, while his eyes challenged O'Neill, "your bullets are useless, Colonel," he mocked, "the will not penetrate my shield."

"Yeah, well, I'm pretty good with a knife as well," O'Neill retorted.

The Goa'uld held Sam up in front of him, "how good, Colonel?"

-o-o-o-

The Stargate spun to the last co-ordinate and locked into place, then fell silent. There was no blast of watery energy spinning down the gantry, no polished pool shimmering in its circle. The General watched from the observation room above, while Sergeant Davis verified his settings and controls.

"I don't understand it, Sir, everything checks out."

The General moved closer to the glass window, "what in the hell..?"

Smoke like vapours seeped from the quartzite metal of the ring, twisting through the symbols and licking the air. They merged together rolling to the floor in a cushion of fog that crept rhythmically along the gantry to where Teal'c stood. The Jaffa watched the carpet of pearl-grey smoke slither around his feet, smothering them in its shroud. A wispy tendril extended about his body, touching his soul like the fingers of a blind man. He heard layer upon layer of whispering voices calling in the haze, "my heart is with me, and it shall never come to pass that it be carried away."

Davis looked at Hammond, a slight panic reflected in his voice, "Sir?"

The General's hand hovered over the alarm but Teal'c looked up at him and shook his head, "I believe it is looking for the Goa'uld," he said, watching it trail off through a vent.

-o-o-o-

Jonas felt a strong hand grasp his own, pulling him from his stupor. He opened his eyes and saw the Potter smouldering in front of him surrounded by an unearthly glow. The old man placed his hand on the Kelownan's wound, "you call us forth so we can at last confront the false God who left us incomplete to walk as shades amongst the living," he whispered, in a hundred voices that wavered with the flux of his image.

The Potter's touch burned through Jonas as it boosted the reparative ability of the Goa'uld gene. He let out a small gasp and awkwardly sat up, clutching the sides of the couch for support. The old man smiled warmly, at him, and then turned his head towards an object on the floor. Jonas narrowed his eyes and followed the Potter's gaze to the obsidian blade, "all we crave is peace, to be weighed as our ancestors before us, so we can each enter the halls of the Gods; we share a common enemy, Jonas Quinn."

"I, I don't want revenge," the Kelownan replied, steadfastly, his eyes not leaving the blooded knife, "I just want him stopped."

"Then give us retribution," the voices boomed, "take the knife and free our hearts so that they can be weighed."

Jonas hesitated as he removed the glove from his hand. He knew he had to act, Sam was in danger but he was fearful of the intense emotion that touching the blade would bring upon his soul. He painfully got to his feet and staggered across to where Daniel had left the ceremonial knife and picked it up. As he handled the carved piece of obsidian he immediately felt the full sting of sorrow, from those it had taken, pierce his body. He felt their residue stretch into his heart as he witnessed the blade plunge into each of its victims, time and time again.

He dropped the knife to the floor and fell to his knees clutching his wound. He tried to breathe but his breathing was panicked as his soul absorbed the anguish that eddied around him.

The Potter placed a hand on the young man's shoulder, "will you help us reclaim that, that was so cruelly cut from our bodies. Will you make us whole, once more, so we can continue our journey to the afterlife? Will you give us our revenge?"

Jonas nodded and closed his eyes, feeling the pulse of many grieving voices course through his mind, spirits lost in the ether between the living and the dead. The Potter bowed his head gracefully and evaporated back into the layer of flowing miasma that curdled and then slinked into Jonas's chest.

-o-o-o-

Huitzilopochtli sneered and looked O'Neill straight in the eye, "drop your weapon, now, Colonel," he spat, "you too Doctor Jackson."

"How about you let Major Carter go first," Jack countered, "and I'll think about it," he said, edging forward.

"You are in no position to negotiate here," the Goa'uld cried angrily, taking an involuntary step back, "I will kill the woman if you do not do as I say."

Jack saw Sam's eyes flutter momentarily as Huitzilopochtli gripped her tighter, "okay, okay," he conceded, relinquishing his handgun and gesturing for Daniel to do the same.

"Your knife as well Colonel," the Goa'uld stipulated, motioning for O'Neill to slide it out of reach.

Jack did as instructed, "now what?"

"You will make sure I reach the Chappa'ai unharmed and allow me to leave this miserable planet. In return I will spare Major Carter."

"Scout's honour?" O'Neill challenged.

The Goa'uld narrowed his eyes, "and go where?" Daniel asked, trying to calm the situation.

"That does not concern you," Huitzilopochtli growled.

"Oh, I think it does," Jack moralized, "especially if we're letting you loose to snack on others."

"Be glad that I choose not to 'snack' on you, Colonel," the Goa'uld smiled.

"Yeah, well, forgive me for not being grateful."

Out of the corner of his eye Daniel noticed Jonas stumble to the doorway, of the other office, behind Huitzilopochtli, "we will need co-ordinates from you at some point," he ventured, trying to distract the Goa'uld.

Jack also saw the Kelownan as Jonas awkwardly shifted his weight in order to keep from collapsing. O'Neill winced, "we can dial your chosen planet now if..." He offered, resting his hand on his radio.

"No! I will provide you with a location when I am safely at the Chappa'ai." Huitzilopochtli cried impatiently. "Now enough of this banal exchange, you are wasting time."

He pulled Sam closer to his new body, "I warn you, do not try and trick me."

'Okay Junior, whatever you're gonna do, you'd better do it now,' Jack murmured under his breath.

Jonas leant against the doorjamb, for support, while keeping his gaze firmly on the back of the Goa'uld. He raised a heavy arm in readiness to throw the obsidian blade but as he tipped forward, to release the knife, his body weight betrayed him sending him crashing forward.

Huitzilopochtli turned his head in the direction of the fallen Kelownan, "what treachery is this?" He yelled angrily.

"Damn," Jack muttered, turning to retrieve his own knife while the Goa'uld was preoccupied.

Huitzilopochtli sensed the risk from Jonas was less than that from the other two men. He quickly twisted back to O'Neill and keeping one arm around Sam discharged a shot pushing both Jack and Daniel to the floor.

"Shit," the Colonel cried, trying to shake the pain and stars from his head, "Daniel?"

He looked to where the Egyptologist had fallen; Jackson was out cold.

"It would have been a lot less painful for you, Colonel, if you had done as I asked," the Goa'uld sneered looking down at him; Jack scowled back with contempt.

"Colonel, is everything alright?" Hammond's voice whipped around the room with a static tail, "Major Andrews has informed me you and Doctor Jackson have left the main search party."

Huitzilopochtli snorted and pressed his hand to Sam's temple, "be careful how you answer," he threatened.

Carter's eyes flicked open making contact with O'Neill's. She moved her finger, slightly, signalling to her own knife that was still sheathed on her vest; Jack nodded, "General, Daniel had a hunch that we're following up," he replied, holding Sam's gaze.

"Okay Colonel. Do you know how Mr Quinn's doing, we're having problems raising the medical team?" Hammond continued.

O'Neill looked across the unconscious forms scattered across the floor, "they're still with him Sir, they're having difficulty moving him at present," he replied.

"Very well, Colonel, keep me posted, Hammond out."

Huitzilopochtli smiled, "very good," he scoffed, moving his palm away from Sam's temple.

"Don't mention it," O'Neill retorted, gripping his sides as he tried to sit up.

The Goa'uld grunted and went to reply but then hesitated as his gaze fell upon the obsidian blade. His eyes widened as they absorbed every inch of the carved piece of volcanic rock that still bleed with Jonas's potent blood. He licked his lips; the thought of obtaining the Kelownan's heart, the heart that he had helped sculpt, was tempting him beyond that of self-preservation.

Huitzilopochtli bent down and picked up the ceremonial tool, casting Sam to the floor so he could run his fingertips in the viscous crimson that clung to its surface. He inhaled, deeply, rolling the thickening blood between his thumb and forefinger, in deliberation, before bringing it to his lips to taste. He closed his eyes, sensing the divine power of Jonas's heart as it corroded his tongue, its capacity to love, to hate, to mend and to break.

He turned to O'Neill and an insane smiled pulled the host's lips back, "I do believe I 'now' have time for a snack," he declared, coating his mouth with the blood from the blade.

"The hell you do," Jack responded, attempting to stand.

The Goa'uld laughed, cruelly, and sent Jack spiralling into a world of hurt with an outstretched palm.

Sam carefully shifted her weight so she could remove the knife, which was situated in a pocket under her body. Her fingers skilfully undid the Velcro fastening but the soft noise it made drew the Goa'uld's attention.

Carter closed her eyes, feigning unconsciousness, as Huitzilopochtli lingered above her pushing his foot, solidly, into her side. She remained silent and still as the pain burned through her, biting her lip to alleviate the agony.

The Goa'uld turned away, satisfied, and headed to where Jonas lay, rolling the Kelownan over onto his back. He knelt over the injured man and dragged the obsidian blade across his own hand, cutting deep into his palm. He made a fist so his blood ran freely and then placed this hand over the deep lesion in Jonas's chest. The young man flinched and Huitzilopochtli sighed with pleasure, casting his head back and closing his eyes while his breathing quickened with excitement as he felt the throb of the Kelownan's life force merge with his own. Again he licked his lips in anticipation of consuming this heart, craving the strength it possessed to fulfil him.

He dragged his hand away, from the wound, so he could finish the ritual with a thrust of his blade but stopped as he noticed a web of vapour entwining itself around his fingers like strands of fine hair. He narrowed his eyes following the coil of mist back to the bloody gash in Jonas's torso.

The young man opened his eyes and stared at the Goa'uld in judgement, "what is this?" Huitzilopochtli yelled, dropping the knife as the thickening twist of smoke cocooned his arm.

"Revenge," Jonas whispered in a hundred voices that spread around the room like fingers reaching out from the grave.

The Goa'uld stood up watching the swell of encircling mist unfurl into a mass of shadowy figures, "we have come hither from where we were abandoned to face the usurper and reclaim that which he stole from us. We have kept faith with the gods of our ancestors and hath not sinned against them in word or deed even when our hearts were cut from us and we fell into never-ending darkness.

"Truth is in our hearts and in our breasts there is neither craft nor guile so grant passageway so we may join those who have gone before us into the blessed afterlife."

Faceless spectres drifted around Huitzilopochtli like gossamer streamers performing for the breeze as their voices ricochet off the walls, shaking the room and startling a stack of assorted papers from their slumber.

Jonas moved onto his front and inched his body laboriously forward towards the obsidian blade. He reached out with his fingertips just barely touching its surface and closed his eyes in concentration. The knife jerked, scraping the floor as it travelled about a foot before stopping. Jonas sighed and closed his eyes again urging the blade to move with every ounce of strength he had left. The knife relented, spinning as it travelled towards where Major Carter lay.

Sam felt the coolness of the rock touch her hand and looked towards Jonas. The Kelownan smiled and then closed his eyes, exhausted; Sam nodded. As she gripped the hilt she felt something surge through her, a powerful mix of emotions that took control of her body.

She stood up and faced Huitzilopochtli, the feelings of anger, frustration, sorrow and revenge fuelling her advance. The Goa'uld looked into her venomous eyes and fired directly at her but it dispersed in the shroud of phantoms that continued to haunt him.

Sam rushed forward, her body now a tool for retribution. She passed through the watery barrier of Huitzilopochtli's shield, unscathed, and plunged the blade deep into the host's chest.

The Goa'uld's hands went automatically to the hilt of the knife, to try and dislodge it, but a cloud of thick ectoplasm hindered his efforts. He staggered back into an encompassing fog that unfurled into many welcoming hands, which seized and overwhelmed his body.

A finger of white light filtered from where the blade had stuck and began to spread hungrily over Huitzilopochtli, in a thousand blistering pinpricks, bathing the whole room as it danced through his skin.

Sam heard the Goa'uld scream and watched him melt, slowly, into the grasping cloud until he had dissolved in its mantle, completely.

The obsidian blade then fell to the floor and shattered, dispersing the mist in its wake.

-o-o-o-

The children lay on their backs in a fort made of trampled honey grass. Around them the dry seeds whistled as the breeze chased the day into the night making an ocean of the field.

Jonas watched them in his sleep, remembering.

"What you looking at?" The girl asked as she searched in her deep pockets for Hazelbane berries she had picked earlier in the day.

"The stars," the boy replied, his eyes studying the awakening planets flickering in the sand-light left by the setting sun.

"Oh," the girl furrowed her brow and looked up into the clement sky with interest, "why?"

"Because Jeremy Fisher says that one day we will travel to the stars, that there are people just like us living on them."

Mia sucked at the flesh under the coarse tawny skin of the fruit, "what does he know?"

Jonas turned to her, wiping the juice from her chin with his thumb, "his father works for the Government."

"Oh," she said again and sat up, "but they're a long way away."

"Jeremy says that the Government are going to build a rocket ship to reach them, that's, that's what his father's working on."

The young girl looked sceptical as she slurped the last syrupy remains of the soft fruit between her teeth, "yeah, well, last year Jeremy told everyone that there was a monster living in the lake," she cocked her small thumb in a westerly direction towards the city, "and that his father was in charge of studying it, remember? I asked Mr Hawker, my teacher, if it was true, 'cos we were going to see if we could catch it and I asked him what monsters eat and he said that Jeremy was making it up and there's no such thing as monsters, only, only in old stories."

Jonas shrugged and turned away from her, "I'm just saying, that's all" he said defensively.

Mia hunted in her pockets once more and pulled out two more of the prickly fruits, handing one to Jonas. She leant back and placed one hand under her head, "would you go?" She enquired.

Jonas wiped the back of his hand across his mouth smearing his lips with juice, "where?"

"Up there, to the stars, visiting those people?" She brought her knees up so she could curl her naked toes in the soft ground.

Jonas smiled and nodded, "yeah, I'd like too," he replied relaxing back onto the grass.

Mia returned the gesture, throwing the skin of the fruit over her head, "who do you think polishes them?"

"Polishes what?" He responded, puzzled.

"The stars, who do you think keeps them nice and shiny?"

"Mia I don't think..."

"'Cos that's what I could do, when you're up there in the night sky, I could keep the stars shiny for you so you could find your way home again and not get lost like, like little lighthouses."

The boy smiled again and pulled his sister to him, resting her head on his shoulder, "Yes, Mia, you could do that."

Jonas watched the image of the children fade and whispered to himself, "that's who we are."

-o-o-o-

Epilogue to follow

Thank you


	23. Epilogue

Told you it would be along.......

-oOo-

Epilogue

Daniel flicked through one of the poetry books that Jonas acquired while staying in the infirmary. He hummed to himself as the Kelownan's eyes slowly opened and focused on him.

"Hey," Daniel smiled down at the awakening man.

"Doctor Jackson, Daniel," Jonas corrected himself, "I, I must have dozed off." He continued rubbing his eyes while beginning to sit up.

"Here let me help," Daniel offered, placing the book back to aid the younger man.

"Thanks," Jonas added as Daniel arranged his pillows, "how long have I been out?"

"Oh, a few hours."

"Really, I feel like I've slept for days," Jonas replied, stifling a yawn.

"Well it's been five since Sam dispatched Huitzilopochtli and to be honest you've slept through most of them."

Jonas smiled lightly, "yeah," he answered stretching, "feels like it."

He looked at Daniel and winced, "how's the head?" He asked.

Daniel tapped the tender bruise on his forehead, lightly, "the headaches are gone," he observe cocking his head to one side, "the Doc gave me the 'all clear' a couple of days ago."

Jonas nodded, "and the Colonel?"

"He was discharged after a day."

The alien raised his eyebrows, Jackson laughed, "Jack threatened the Doctor."

Jonas smiled, "oh," he said.

Daniel wiped a hand over his face, "how about you, how are you feeling?"

"Well my wound's almost healed," the Kelownan replied, "although I'm gonna have a nice scar there," he quipped laying a hand across the bandages on his chest.

Jackson cringed slightly, "Jonas I meant..."

"I know," the alien replied softly with a sigh, "I'm I glad Huitzilopochtli is dead? Yeah," he paused, looking down at his hands which he knotted together, "but, but it was never about revenge, Daniel, not for me." He looked the other man in the face, "I just wanted answers, I just wanted to know why."

"And did you 'get' those answers?"

Jonas turned away, focusing on the end of the bed, "yeah," he said with certainty, "yes."

"And?"

"I'm okay, Daniel, honest."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really," he offered, with a genuine smile.

Jackson nodded; they fell silent for a while.

"I see you're ready for the off?" Jonas commented, eagerly looking at the Egyptologist's BDUs.

"Yeah," Daniel replied with little enthusiasm, "S'hang came through for us and confirmed that Osiris helped Ravel overthrow your government. The Tok'ra are worried that with the aid of technology Anubis acquired from the Ancients, it's, it's only a matter of time before Osiris is able to control the power of Naquadria. That's why we've been given the go-ahead to launch a joint attack on Osiris's base. Sam and Teal'c are at the Alpha site, now, helping several Tok'ra and Jaffa units to mobilise. The Colonel and myself are joining them shortly with several more SG teams."

"I was wondering what all the commotion was about," Jonas replied, gesturing to the activity going on in the infirmary.

He looked down at his injury again, "I wish I was going with you," he said.

"I know, Jonas, but this is just the first strike, there will be other opportunities," Daniel stated, wearily.

Jonas studied him for a moment, sensing him shuffle his conflicting thoughts, "you'll get her back," he said gently, his voice hopeful.

"Who?" Daniel posed.

"Sarah," the alien answered, "the Tok'ra have successfully removed a symbiote from a host before..."

"That's if we manage to capture Osiris," Daniel argued, without optimism and then added, "alive." He looked down at his hands.

"Hey, see ya finally up, Junior," O'Neill cried as he entered the infirmary.

"Colonel I..." Jonas responded, shifting in the bed

"It's okay, I just dropped by to let Danny know he's got ten minutes," Jack parked himself on the edge of the bed.

"And?" Jackson volunteered, with a small smile.

"And?" O'Neill retorted shaking his head.

"Jack."

The Colonel sighed, "and to give you this," O'Neill relented, handing Jonas a gift-wrapped package.

Jonas examined the parcel; "it's just a little something, from all of us, to keep you out of trouble while we're away kicking butt," Jack pointed out.

"A book?"

"See, Daniel, I told you, that's the problem with giving someone with Jonas's abilities a present, he knows what it is before opening it."

"Oh, no Colonel, it's, it's just a guess, by the shape and..." He looked at the smile spread across Jack's face, "you were just funning with me, right?"

"You bet ya."

Jonas pulled the paper off quickly, "Now We Are Six, A Collection Of Poems By A.A. Milne." He turned the book over in his hand, "Thanks, I haven't heard of this one?"

"Oh, then you're in for a treat," O'Neill replied, eyes wide. He then turned to Jackson, "Daniel, we need to get going," he reminded.

Both men stood to leave, "oh, before I forget," Daniel added, rummaging through his pockets, "Sam gave me these," he handed Jonas a small brown envelope.

Jonas opened it carefully spilling the contents onto his palm, "Honey Grass seeds? Where did..?"

"She said they fell out of your hand when you were unconscious."

He thought for a while and then looked up at both men with a faint smile, "they're from Kelowna, the seeds are a, a symbol of rebirth of the seasons, of a renewal of crops, of, of future hope for the people." He clasped them in his fist.

"Oh," Jack said looking at his watch.

Jonas unclenched his palm and took one of the five kernels from cluster before handing them back to Daniel. "Would you each take one, Teal'c and Sam as well?" He asked, "for good luck? Then, then maybe we could all plant them back on Kelowna." He smiled, "I mean Langaria."

Daniel took the seeds from him and gave one to Jack, "sounds like a plan," O'Neill acknowledged slipping it into his top pocket.

-oOo-

The door slid open with a serpentine hiss. Herak entered the darkened chamber taking a second to glance at the planet they were orbiting before falling to his knees.

"Report," a deep voice jarred from within the gloom.

Herak looked up, a sly smile spread across his lips, "as you predicted, my Lord, the Tok'ra have began their attack along with the Tau'ri, believing it is Osiris who occupies this planet."

Ba'al stepped out from the shadows and turned to observe the planet of Langaria, "good," he whispered, folding his arms, "you have done well Herak."

The Goa'uld moved away from the observation porthole and sat down on his autocratic throne, crossing his legs, "my only wish is to serve you, my Lord Ba'al," the First Prime fawned, bowing his head.

"And you have done," Ba'al continued stroking his small beard, "your loyalty will not be forgotten, now leave me," he waved the Jaffa away with a gloved hand.

The prostrate man got to his feet, "what do you wish done with the Shol'va, S'hang?"

Ba'al smiled, "he has outlived his usefulness, let Ravel deal with him, the Kelownan's seem to enjoy the spectacle of a public execution."

"As you wish, my Lord," Herak bowed again and then turned back toward the door.

He heard a stifled giggle escape from the other side of the room and narrowed his eyes to locate its source; irritated he left the room.

"As you wish my Lord," a voice mocked when the door closed behind the First Prime.

A young man sauntered out from the shadows, his graceful movement courting the room with its effeminate allure. His delicate body was wrapped in the white of a bed sheet, which blended with the pallor of his skin.

Ba'al placed an elbow on the gilded arm of the throne, bringing his index finger to rest under his nose, "do not forget that it is he who has helped deceive both Osiris and the allies and therefore given me time to establish my Jaffa on this planet and to fortify my position," he said gruffly.

"Then, let us toast his efforts," the young man replied, holding two large goblets in his hand.

He offered one to Ba'al, which the Goa'uld took with caution. The young man smiled and provocatively licked the rim of his own cup before taking a sip of the scarlet liquid it contained, his eyes never leaving the older man's face. He then exchanged it with the one Ba'al held, grinning smugly at the Goa'uld who snorted dismissively.

"Do you fear me?" The young man asked idly, as he rubbed his finger around the lip of the goblet.

Ba'al sat back in his chair, amused, and looked deep into to the boy's angelic yet salacious face, "I fear no one, especially those who serve me," he took a large gulp of the liquid as if to stress the point.

"You forget, my Lord Ba'al, I serve no one but myself," came the replied.

The Goa'uld stood up and walked over to the young man, a sinister undertone stretching the gap between them. He reached out and took several long strands of the Kelownan's, fine, honey-blonde hair, smoothing it between his fingers, "then, I do not fear that which I control," he whispered balefully in his ear.

"And like it or not, Morgan, I control you. But if you do not like it here I can quite easily send you back to that crumbling Government institution, full of vacant half-wits, that I found you in," he threatened.

He pulled back a length of the young man's hair to reveal a rope like scar that brutalised his frontal lobe and smiled, "and Kelowna has such outdated and barbaric laws," he said following the disfigurement with his fingertip.

Morgan pushed the Goa'uld's touch away and let his hair fall back into place, Ba'al let a sneer dust his lips, "what do you think your eminent, Government, doctors would do if they knew that they had not purged you of your ability but made you stronger? Do you think you would keep that pretty face of yours, my sweet Hok'tar, when they slice you open, again, and remove more of your brain? Or do you think they would make an example of you and your mixed blood and publicly stone you as I believe they will do to the Shol'va?"

The young man looked down on the Kelowna continent and craned his neck for the Goa'uld to lightly fondle.

His mind wandered back to a frosty school playground when his own, frozen, words had condemn him,_ "you don't belong here, Jonas Quinn, you're not one of us._ _You are the orchestrator of our doom, you will end the Kelownan dream." _

He remembered the look on Miss Helvellyn's face, when she had come to Quinn's aid, and he had revealed to her images of her own death. He smiled, he'd enjoyed the power of exploiting her fear, he'd enjoyed the expression of dread that had stretch across her withered features, the same expression he had seen on his parents' faces when they had abandon him to the Government; the same expression of fear he sometimes glimpsed on the face of the Goa'uld.

Morgan turned to face the other man, "then you would be without a Hok'tar," he retaliated, "unless you wish to inhabit this fragile body?" He loosened the sheet letting it fall to his hips and lowered his eyes to take a sip of wine.

Ba'al encircle the Kelownan's slender neck with one hand, his fingertips applying a muted pressure; Morgan moaned with both pleasure and pain, the wine dribbling onto his pale chin.

"I am no Anubis, or Tok'ra," he whispered close to the young man's ear, "I would not wish to share dominance of your frail form, especially, as I believe, our joining would not be compatible. And if I were to die, Morgan, you would be without the means for your revenge," he loosened his grasp and moved his thumb across the boy's chin, wiping away the remnants of the drink. "So for the time being we have need of each other."

"And after that?" Morgan probed, licking the ripeness of his lips with a flamboyant tongue as he slipped easily out of his covering.

The Goa'uld looked down at the younger man with loathing and lust, "we will see," he said, bringing his thumb to his lips.

-oOo-

The End?

A/N:- (well everyone else does them!)

A big thanks to CT and TT it still amazes me how one smile can melt my heart

Again my apple-low-gs for all the lengthy waits between updates.

To all those who reviewed:-

**Darkcir** (I hope I'm forgiven for bringing Cassie back?)

**BluJay, Aerafel, Hopezen** (I didn't think that things would be easy between the nations after Kelowna dropped the bomb and I wanted to explore that),

**Cathy**, **Exploded Pen** (your French is excused - I must admit it's easier to write someone wicked!)

**Chrissy, LiMiYa **(sorry for freaking you out and thank you for the congrats), **Naitriab** (I started writing on this site to help me get through some stuff life had thrown in my direction and never thought I was going to post more than a couple of chapters! Now five stories later I'm still going. I have left the ending open so I can continue if I get a spare mo and yes I am toying with the idea of bringing Cassie back).

**lighteninglady**, **szhismine, Anon**, **Ans4Christ**, **Keane, Leah, **(wow, art school, that must be amazing),

**Chrissy, A FAN FRVR **(I know, I know Cliff hangers are cruel but good fun!), **snwptrl** (I've had system probs too! Spent a relaxing hol in Ireland a few years ago, around the Ring of Kerry, an enchanted place)

**seceret admirer**, **Chocolate** (thank you for your recommending this to your friend),

**Bittersweet, Laura, Sache8 **(I always do a bit of research before I start, it helps feed my plot bunny, Cecil and I'm a bit of a history buff to boot!), **ruthlesspeople, Beka, ****sammie77** & to all those who stopped by and left no footprints.

**A BIG hug to all of you!!! :o) xxxx**

I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed piecing it together. Thank you all for your continual support, your comments have been totally amazing and I feel very flattered that you have taken the time to review.

Thank you all again.

Until next time?????

;o)

Quote of the week

**Girl Scout:** Would you like some cookies?

**Bible sellers:** Have you heard the Good News?

**Scooby:** Yeah, there are cookies


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